The Forked Path
by QueenYoda
Summary: When Morgana and Mordred fall, Arthur and Merlin expect their dreams of a peaceful kingdom of brotherhood to fall into place. However, prejudice and hatred die hard. When Merlin is forced to flee the kingdom for his life, he and Arthur are forced unto two different paths which take them in heartbreaking directions and leave them both emotionally scarred.
1. Chapter 1

Merlin Emrys cringed when another resounding crash sent a jolt of apprehension into his spine, tingling up the nerve endings as quickly as if he were standing amidst a thunderstorm. The crash was followed swiftly by another, and then another. He heard the sounds of screaming-not screams of terror or pain but of anger and loathing. Once more, men and women beat on the doors all along the Citadel. The Once Peaceful Camelot was in complete disarray.

At every hateful shout where he could discern the words, at each hard pounding upon the beautiful walls of the place he had come to call home, Merlin felt a pang of ache travel in his heart. He had never meant for this to happen. He had feared this with every fiber of his being, and now his worst fears were being realized. _Vividly_.

He shivered, and it was noticed. Arthur Pendragon, High King of Camelot, Champion, Warrior, Head Knight, Once and Future King, the other side of Merlin's soul stood near the window looking down upon his kingdom.

He turned to eye Merlin with an expressionless face. They were alone in the King's chambers. A dying fire crackled in the fireplace; the embers fading down into orange coals of warmth and light, but it was enough to see the grave expression in Arthur's sapphire eyes, the emotions in them wavering between hurt, anger, worry and guilt.

The Knights of the Round Table were struggling to settle the crowd outside the Citadel, striving to stop the massive tidal wave from storming into the castle and dragging the sorcerer kicking and screaming outside so that they could burn him themselves, and Gwen was straining to keep the Nobles cooped into the castle calm. Arthur should be with them. He was King, after all.

He should either be trying to speak with his people or his Council. Merlin should be on the streets where people burned the houses of anyone they suspected harboring magic or magic users.

He should be conferring with the Druids or struggling to calm the crowds of people, stop them from killing innocent magic-users, but instead he was inside with Arthur. They had to decide what to do. They were the leaders of Camelot. Arthur was King and Merlin his advisor. Both of them had given much-had lost and sacrificed much more- to protect Camelot and care for the people they had come to love. Merlin especially.

Those same people now called for his blood, and no amount of sweet talking from even their beloved king could change their minds. It made Merlin want to curl into a ball and weep, especially when he saw Arthur cringe and look away from the scene outside of his window, when he heard calls for the King to return to sense and save them from sorcery and it's evil. Save them from Merlin, who would rather die than see any of Camelot's people suffer.

Merlin fiddled with his midnight blue cloak and shuffled in place. The beautiful silks and warm cottons of the clothes he wore were gifts from Arthur and Gwen, given to him upon his promotion from Manservant to Court Sorcerer. After five years, and after Merlin had saved Arthur from the plains of Camlann and killed Morgana, he had been able to walk around the halls of his home without hiding who he was from his closest friends. His ceremony had been the night before.

Most of the Council had agreed upon hearing evidence of what Merlin had done at Camlann, but some of them… Some of them had not. Merlin suspected that those few who had not agreed were the few that had incited the citizens to riot. Probably scaring them with reminders of the past sorcerers who had harmed Camelot and experiences with magic.

Kilgarrah's fiery attack, Morgana's multiple crimes, Morgause's immortal army, Mordred's betrayal, the Sidhe, the Troll…Yes, as far as the people were concerned, they had never been given a reason to believe that sorcery were any good. Merlin did not blame them for fear, but what tore into his heart was their hatred.

Surely they could not hate him, could they? He was still the happy-go-lucky man that they had seen following Arthur around all this time! He hadn't changed! They could fear his power, but why did they have to hate _him,_ too?

"Merlin," Arthur's soft voice broke him out of his thoughts. Merlin blinked past his tears and met the gaze of his king. Arthur was standing by the window still, his royal body outlined by the moon's ghostly light and flashes of golden/orange light. Some of the buildings in the Lower Town had been set aflame.

His expression was unreadable, but Emrys could see through to his heart, he was connected to Arthur in that way. Merlin's heart sank. He wished Arthur had never learned about his magic. He wished that this had never happened.

"This," Arthur gestured down to the maddened crowds. "Will pass. They are just afraid. Once they get to know you again, and see all the good that magic can do, then… Then this will pass. All in time," he said, and his words were meant to be comforting. Merlin smiled, grateful that Arthur had tried but his heart felt all the more weighed as it had moments before.

"Arthur," his voice was hoarse. "You don't know that," he pointed out. Arthur turned away, and clenched his jaw tightly; in a stubborn expression that Merlin knew so well. He smiled slightly, and slowly made his way over to Arthur, staying out of sight of the people below the window. They would go mad if they saw him again.

"What would you know, _Mer_lin?" Arthur demanded sharply, for a moment reverting back to his old prattish self. Merlin smiled bitterly.

"I know what kind of hatred this is, Arthur," he replied. "I have had to deal with it my entire life. I know that it is not something that can be wished away with a little time," _believe me, I've tried._ "Those people have been hurt, betrayed, and burned by magic-users. They have no reason to believe anything you or I say about it," he hung his head. "They have no reason to believe that I am not a monster," he whispered desolately.

Arthur's spine snapped into erect fury. "But you aren't," he growled. "For goodness sakes, you _aren't_! You've saved all of their lives ten times over! They have no right to treat you this way!" he cried irately. Merlin sighed.

"And why should they believe that? All they have ever known is dark magic and selfish, cruel people!" He snapped. He was not angry at Arthur. Not in the slightest because all his friend had tried to do was make him happy. He had only repealed the magic law so that Merlin could walk amongst the streets without shame or fear, and the druids could come into Camelot without hiding beneath cloaks and perhaps Kilgarrah could roam the skies freely and…

And it hadn't worked.

"_I_ believed you!" Arthur snapped back. It was much easier to be angry at each other than the people below-their beloved people. Merlin could never stay angry for long though. He deflated, and there was a mixture of astonishment, gratitude and beaming love in his heart for this man.

"That is because you are my Once and Future King," he replied softly. Arthur stared into his eyes for a long moment. Merlin stared back, both of them communicating all that could never be said in word through their despairing gazes.

Suddenly, Merlin felt a fluctuation in the currents of power that flowed around him at all times. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "Arthur, down!" Without thinking, he dove forward and tackled the King to the ground, covering Arthur with his own body protectively just as a flaming arrow shot through the window, flying through the air space were Arthur's head had been a minute before.

The arrow landed with a small whoosh and muffled plunk in the wood of Arthur's bed. Immediately, the flames began licking at the Camelot red coverlets. Merlin stilled the flames into silence with a whispered word. "Blast it. Who shot that?" Arthur gasped as he shoved Merlin off of him without gentleness, scrambling to his feet to squint balefully at the gloomy night of his burning kingdom.

"Does it matter?" Merlin remained on the ground, fisting his hair as thoughts ran through his mind. They were targeting Arthur now. _Arthur_. Who knew who else they would try to hurt to get to him? Would they kill the Knights? Gwen? Would they go for Gaius? At that thought Merlin shuddered, envisioning his kind, firm mentor in the hands of such bloodthirsty barbarians. They would tear Gaius apart. And all because of him.

"Of course it matters, you idiot!" Arthur growled, craning his neck as if he were really going to see the culprit when there were hundreds of people out there. Merlin knew that Arthur was only trying to find a more productive outlet for his fury than to let the true nature of this conflict occur to him.

"Arthur…"

"Kill the sorcerer! Kill the sorcerer! Free Camelot! _Free Camelot_!" Merlin went pale as the lone call of his death was picked up by more supporters, and then it was a roar as the entirety of Camelot itself screamed for the blood of its guardian angel. Merlin's heart quivered in his chest, and he inhaled a shuddering breath. He sat up and tiredly stood, leaning against the wooden pole of Arthur's bed canopy when his knees shook.

Arthur, meanwhile, slammed the window closed with a growl of impatience. The glass pane shook in its encasing as the roar was muffled by its protective glass. But not muffled enough. Merlin could still hear them in his mind, still smell smoke from the fires, and he moaned as his old nighttime terror of being burned at the stake flashed before his eyes.

_"__Kill the sorcerer! Kill the sorcerer! Free Camelot! Free Camelot!"_

"How could they be so_ stupid_?" Arthur growled as he spun around, now glaring at the arrow still embedded in his bedclothes. Merlin gulped.

"They're afraid," he answered, sounding much calmer than he felt. Arthur glanced at him.

"Fear doesn't give them the excuse to act like this," he pointed out.

Merlin shook his head. "They won't stop until they find me, you know that," he said in reply to that. Arthur's eyes narrowed; and the determined twinkle in his eyes told Merlin just what Arthur would be willing to do to make sure that they did not find him… And how much it would tear him apart. He smiled, eternally grateful that Fate had gifted him such a friend, that he had the support of such a noble man.

"Arthur, they'll tear the kingdom apart from fear, and never realize that they're doing it," he continued. "Camelot will be thrust into a civil war"-both of them cringed and one hand simultaneously went to their hearts, as if to assure themselves that the pain they felt wasn't actually an arrow to the chest-"And your enemies will lurk behind every bush. We can't be seen as weak right now, not _now_!" He cried.

Arthur stared at him for a long moment, and in his eye Merlin saw that the reasoning had occurred to him too. Arthur was just at a loss for what to do. "I know," The King sighed, bringing his hands up to massage his temple. He closed his eyes, as if he did not want to see any of it anymore. "So what do you suggest?" He asked opening his eyes to gaze at Merlin desperately.

Merlin stared at his king for a long time, memorizing every feature. His eyes swept from the golden/blond hair that held within its uncombed mess the crown of Camelot, to the strong neck and broad shoulders that had borne the weight of responsibility his whole life, and never once slouched.

To the golden buckle of Pendragon's crest that held his blood red cloak to him. The thin cotton shirt Merlin had helped him get on, the riding pants down to the swiftly polished black boots, and finally Excalibur, resting patiently on the hip of his King. At the sight of the sword Merlin had gone to such great lengths to make for Arthur, tears sprung to his eyes, he knew what he had to do. The fact that his heart would break in the process meant nothing.

His knees trembled, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat. Struggling to remain calm (Arthur's expression told him that it was not working) he forced his trembling knees to lock straight and squared his shoulders.

"I have to leave," he replied, and his voice wavered.

Arthur blinked once, twice, thrice. Then, sharply he exclaimed "_what?"_

Merlin gulped and gazed pointedly at the arrow embedded in the bedclothes. "Arthur… You know that I have to go. It's the only thing that will make them feel safe again," he repeated.

Arthur stared at him with astonishment. "So let me get this straight, you think that taking away their number one protection against all magical threats will make them feel safe?" he demanded as if Merlin were a small child.

Merlin laughed humorlessly. "I _am_ the magical threat in their eyes! I…" As If to prove the validity of his point, a sudden plunk against the glass of Arthur's window reported that the crowd was throwing rocks now.

"Kill the Sorcerer! Kill the Sorcerer! Free Camelot! Free Camelot!"

The pebbles grew in intensity and size until the tapping of the rocks against the glass sounded like a massive storm had hail the size of mice being pelted against the window. Arthur stepped out of range, knowing that soon it would smash.

"Merlin, don't be stupid," Arthur began again when he was safely away from the window. He set his feet and crossed his arms in a stance that intimidated a great deal of his Knights, but only made Merlin smile bitterly.

"Fine. I won't be. I'll go," Merlin agreed readily.

"That is the most stupid plan I have ever heard! You can't just run away from this! We have to face it; you have to fight it…" Arthur cried, and Merlin snapped.

"Like Morgana fought it?" He barked firmly, shutting Arthur up with a mere narrowing of his gaze. He knew that his eyes were glittering gold in the dark light, and he had been told by more than one person that he was more than just a bit frightening in such a state. Arthur was not afraid of him, but he was afraid of what Merlin was saying.

"What do you think she would have done to them by now, Arthur? Hmm? She would have fought it alright, with blood, sweat and tears! It's apparent that words don't work, that their fear is stronger than their reason. People only want one thing when they're like this: blood. And they won't stop until they get it. If that means trying to dethrone you then they'll do it!" He hissed.

Arthur was shaking his head slowly, eyes wide with sudden terror and denial. "T-they wouldn't," he whispered, and it was choked out with poignant hurt. "They can't," he whispered.

Merlin snorted sarcastically, and pointed out the window furiously. "They already are, you dollophead! Look at what's going on out there! Your own Knights are being forced to fight the people they're supposed to protect! Your Council members are sneering and mocking you behind your back! Your own people are amassing an army to storm _your _castle! And it is all to get to _ME!"_The last note ended on a high shriek of despair. This was all his fault. He had only meant to bring peace to Albion, had only meant to make Arthur the great King he was meant to be; and now…

He had ruined everything.

Tears built in his eyes and one trickled down his face. The glass shattered and a sudden barrage of rocks came inside, pinging into the room like small missiles. Arthur ducked as several went flying around the room, ricocheting around. "`Alynian!" Merlin said softly with a wave and flash of his eyes.

Immediately, a new shield of glowing magic covered the shattered panes of glass, but not before a small, sharp pebble bounced off Arthur's desk directly into the skin above Merlin's left eye. He hissed, slapping at the piercing pain that immediately blossomed from the wound. He felt warm blood flowing through his fingers, and a headache throbbed beneath his temples. He swayed a bit, caught only by Arthur's hands upon his shoulders. When he opened his eyes, he saw Arthur gazing directly at him, his own eyes filled with concern.

"Merlin! Are you….?" He trailed off when Merlin waved the question away and nodded.

"I have to go," Merlin continued. Distantly, he touched his fingers to the wound and murmured a word in the old Religion. "Batian*" the wound closed up slowly, and Merlin cringed at the uncomfortable feeling of it stitching itself back to together. His wound would be fine, but his heart… He swallowed. Where _would_ he even go?

"There must be another way," Arthur said, not relenting upon his grip.

"There isn't," Merlin shook his head sadly.

"There must be, blast it! Perhaps if we give a demonstration, or… Or ... Perhaps a joust! A joust always lightens their mood or…" Merlin interrupted without words. With infinite tenderness, knowing that this might be the last time he ever did such a thing, he reached forward and touched Arthur's cheek. The King fell silent, his eyes trapped within Merlin's own. Merlin felt the half of his soul that was Arthur's quiver.

He lowered his voice, and spoke with Merlin Emrys's ancient tongue. "Goodbye, Arthur Pendragon," he stated, and with it was the declaration of his decision. Arthur might not agree, but he could not stop him. The King went pale, but his eyes did not waver. To his surprise, Arthur reached up and tenderly placed his fingers against Merlin's own cheek. His eyes softened into a vulnerable affection that Merlin had never seen before, and especially never seen directed at him.

"You're coming back," Arthur said in a half plea, half question. Merlin bowed his head until their foreheads were touching. He could hear Arthur's rapid breathing, and the quickening jumps of his noble heart, knew that his own were doing the same thing. Their eyes met, blue upon blue.

"It depends," he said softly. "Everyone knows what I am now, knows what I can do. If you never legalize magic, then I can't come back, can I?'" He said, struggling to keep a brave façade up for Arthur. He did not want the last sight Arthur saw of him to be a mourning, broken man. But it was hard. Oh, Gaius and Gwen! Leon, Percival, Gwaine… How could he leave them all? Leave his home and his family?

"I already legalized magic," Arthur snorted. _"They,"_ he did not have to specify whom. "Just don't want to accept it," he harrumphed. Then, he turned somber again. "This isn't what I wanted for you, Merlin," Arthur admitted softly. "I never wanted you to be cast away like a pariah," Merlin smiled. He knew what Arthur had wanted. What he would give anything to have Merlin enjoy.

"To all things there is a season," he breathed. "In time, and with some persuasion, they'll see. But for now, it would be best if they returned to reason, and the only way they'll do that is if you take their fear away," their fear. Him. The monster and sorcerer, the villain that haunted children's dreams. Arthur's eyes were sympathetic as they held each other.

"I know how much this hurts you," he muttered apologetically. Merlin gave a half shrug and a goofy, idiotic grin that had accompanied him many days in his life of servitude.

"I expected it, really," he admitted. Arthur's eyes flashed with anger, and the bond between them was suddenly scalding with his fury, hot as dragon's flames. Merlin had never feared the heat, nor ever been burned by Arthur's fire. He closed his eyes.

"My father's legacy lives on," Arthur growled.

Merlin sighed tiredly, and the hand that was on Arthur's cheek gently went up to grip the back of his neck, carding his fingers through blonde locks. It was for this man for whom he'd been born. He was magic, and Arthur had been born of magic. They were brothers in all but blood, and even that was up for debate.

This separation between them would be more painful than leaving Camelot. He had not left Arthur's side for five and a half years. "Don't blame him, Arthur," he breathed, opening his eyes. "He was a mourning, pitiful man. He doesn't deserve the hatred of his son for something that he lost control over long ago," he replied.

"Well, he has it," Arthur's fingers did likewise, gently reaching down to securely fasten Merlin's cloak around his shoulders before squeezing them. They breathed together slowly, hearts breaking as one, dreading the future to come. "Even in his death, my father is controlling my destiny. He's taking away my Court Sorcerer," Arthur let out a sound of disgust. "I can't ever do _anything_ with him," he sighed, and it made Merlin smile. He remembered how many times Arthur had fallen unto his bed as a Prince and declared the same, histrionically. Merlin had only snickered sympathetically then. Now, he smiled bitterly.

"He can't take me away," Merlin whispered comfortingly squeezing the back of Arthur's neck. "Because I belong to you. We are two halves of the same whole, destined to travel one path, even if it goes two different directions," he breathed wisely.

"Two sides of the same coin?" Arthur inquired softly.

"Yes," Merlin blinked away tears, and started to back away. He was wasting time the sooner he got out of there, the sooner things could return to normal…Without him. However, feeling him moving away Arthur gripped his arms with sudden desperation, his iron grip stilling Merlin where he stood.

"I…" Arthur was staring at his face as if to memorize it, as if he were afraid that if he didn't, then Merlin would fade out of existence too. The King gulped, and though his eyes showed his every emotion, he was still struggling to keep the mask of kinghood on his handsome face.

The expressionless, impenetrable mask that he was forced to wear in public, and even sometimes with Merlin. He only let it fall when there was something he needed to say. Merlin waited patiently.

Arthur finished analyzing his face, and with supreme struggle allowed his mask to fall. His expression was a poignant reflection into his heart. Sadness, despair, anger, pain, determination, guilt. It made Merlin's own heart crack to see his King driven to such vulnerability by some stupid law. This was Arthur Pendragon, the man who had vanquished every other foe…

Except the foe that restrained his best friend.

"I…" The King began again, his voice trembling. "I don't want you to go," it was as simple as that. The tears Merlin had been holding back spilled down his cheeks.

"I don't want to leave," he replied thickly. "But we both know it is what is best right now. Morgana is dead, Mordred is gone… This is a time when Camelot could finally be at _peace._ I have fought for its peace for too long now. And if the last ingredient to that prospering kingdom is my departure, then," Merlin squared his shoulders bravely. "It's just what I have to do," he finished.

Arthur's mouth quirked into a small smile. "We always teased that I was the honorable one," he breathed, affection and pride lighting his gaze. "But look at you now," Merlin blushed.

"Who do you think I learned it from?" He inquired.

"I thought I was a prat?"

"You_ are_ a prat. And a cabbagehead, and a dollophead, and a supercilious…"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but added: "Condescending…"

"Patronizing…"

"Overbearing…"

"Great big toad," Merlin finished with satisfaction. Arthur chuckled softly, and playfully punched his shoulder. Then, as the hilarity of their old jokes wore off into despair at the thought of perhaps never sharing one again, Merlin's bottom lip quivered. Who would he make fun of, if not Arthur? Who would make fun of _him_? Arthur seemed to be thinking the same. The King exhaled a stuttering breath.

Then, surprising the both of them, Arthur reached out and pulled Merlin against his chest for a tight hug. The surprise did not last long for Merlin. Quickly he had wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck as the older man pushed his face into his shoulder. Merlin inhaled deeply the scent of the clothes he had washed ten hundred times, and the sob escaped anyway.

Arthur balled his fists into the back of his cloak. "I'll miss you," he whispered into Merlin's ear. Merlin nodded emphatically.

"I'll miss you too," he choked into Arthur's shoulder. "Oh Arthur, I'll _miss_ you," he heard more than felt Arthur's shoulders hitch.

Merlin thought this might be a fine time for a list of to-do things that were now left up to Arthur. "Take care of Gaius? He likes to pretend that he's as young as he used to be, but he isn't. Don't let him fool you," he would miss Gaius probably as much as he would Arthur. Who would look after him? _I don't even get to say goodbye,_ Merlin thought sorrowfully. He would have to leave the city as soon as possible or risk being caught by the crowds.

"And remember to have George bring Gwen the Chamomile tea _without_ honey because the taste reminds her of her father. Talk to Percival as much as you can; he likes it when people talk to him. Leon's knees are starting to bother him, and his back muscles spasm every once in a while. Make sure he goes to Gaius for his medicine every week," he hoped that Gaius had that next batch ready. Camlann had overtaxed some of Leon's endless Knight reserves.

"And _do not_ let Gwaine go into the tavern every night. He doesn't drink as much as he used too, but you know he has a tendency to get into fights when he's upset, and this battle upset him very much. Leon will straighten him out, just…Ow!" Merlin couldn't help but smile. He had been wondering when Arthur was going to tell him to shut up. A good smack upside the head usually worked wonders.

"I'll take care of them, Merlin," Arthur promised, still holding him tightly. The warlock nodded. He knew that already.

"Good," a pause. "And take care of yourself, too, Arthur," he said, and no other person was at the top of Arthur's to-do list in Merlin's mind. No one mattered more than his king, who had one half of his soul.

Arthur nodded, eyes twinkling. "Only if you promise to do the same," he replied. Merlin nodded and buried his face into Arthur's shoulder, inhaling his scent, taking comfort from the strength of his arms. Finally, after centuries spent in each other's arms, he reluctantly detangled himself from Arthur's embrace. Arthur's hands fell limply to his sides, as did Merlin's. They stared across at each other, tears rolling down their faces. Merlin couldn't help but feel a bit of wonder. He had never seen Arthur cry.

He had seen the aftermath of his crying. After Morgana had taken over Camelot and Arthur had found out that she had betrayed him, Merlin had heard a sniffle. When his father had died, he had seen Arthur's tear streaked face and red eyes as he came from mourning.

The time Arthur had been forced to banish Gwen, he had seen his eyes sparkling and the shattered pieces of his heart in his eyes, but Merlin had never been there witness the physical act of Arthur crying. His friend's belief rolled in his mind from years earlier.

_"__No man is worth your tears,"_ and yet Arthur was crying over his leaving. It was half a wondrous thing and half a heart-breaking phenomenon that Merlin wished he had never been given to see. Arthur looked so lost. As lost as Merlin felt.

"No matter how far I go, or where I end up, or how long I'm gone," Merlin choked out sincerely. "You will_ always_ be my King," he meant it with all the strength in his heart and soul. He meant it more than he had ever meant anything ever before. Arthur's hands clenched at his sides, and he tipped his chin back to be the Brave and Noble King that the prophecy had always stated. Merlin's King.

"And you will always be my warlock," Arthur whispered in turn. Merlin stored the words away to help him through the endless nights of not being with his family in his home. Then, trembling he flashed one last reassuring smile and bowed at the waist, as he had done when he was just a servant, and Arthur just a king.

"Until we meet again, sire," he said. Arthur, to his surprise, returned the gesture.

"May your journey be safe, old friend," he replied.

Merlin swallowed down a sob, and, eyes shining, he straightened, winked, and spun on his heel. Without looking back, for he knew that he would never leave if he did so, Merlin opened the door, and exited from the King's chambers for the last time.


	2. Chapter 2

_If only he hadn't stopped; if only he hadn't listened to his infernal sense of mercy and compassion, then he'd be home. He'd be safe in the embrace of people who cared and that was what mattered. If only he hadn't come, then his greatest regret would not be his inbred kindness, and his noble heart. He would still have his innocence, and his pride. _

_He would be with Arthur in Camelot, where he belonged. _

_He had heard about the prospering country long before this. It had only taken a year for his King to settle his subjects. It filled Merlin to the brink with warm pride and joy when the word had come to the small band of physicians that he traveled with, in a distant village near Annis's kingdom where they worked on curing small cases of sickness._

_Merlin was mixing a potion when one of his friends rushed into the room, completely bypassing the small door less space. Merlin was working quietly, with his mind on far away things and certain people, he was proud to be working with his hands, ever grateful for the knowledge Gaius had given him._

_"__Did you hear?" the Druid docoer asked quickly, breathless from his excited run. Merlin looked up, and tried to smile. This man reminded him of Elyan sometimes. _

_"__Hear what?" he asked. _

_"__The news, the news Merlin! Camelot is a magic haven!" The Druid told him, as if he couldn't believe it. Merlin on the other hand; felt a rush of elation and smug sense that could only be described as __**'finally'**__ rush through his veins. _

_"__Really? Are you sure?" he asked. The man nodded and walked over to take Merlin's arm, tugging at it. He had always wanted to go to Camelot, but being druid he had never felt able, had never been able. But now, not even a year after Merlin had left….Arthur had done it. He had done it as Merlin always knew he would. _

_"__Yes, man! A traveling merchant is here. He just came from Camelot, and you wouldn't believe what he's said of Uther's old kingdom! Druids walk free in the streets! Sorceresses practice healing freely for a wage! Our people hold offices in the Royal Court and have become Knights in the Camelot Round Table! Knights and Nobles stand side by side with Priestesses and Alchemists like brothers! Isn't it incredible?" he gasped. Merlin felt tears prick his eyes. _

Oh, you prat, I knew you'd never let me down.

_"__Sounds like my kind of place," he replied, trying to hide the sudden lump in his throat. He stood, and started drying the left over herbs ad waters from his hands with a small rag, hiding his trembling hands. _

_"__Totally! Can we go?" The Young Druid pleaded. Merlin grinned. _

_"__Hey, you said practice healing for a wage, right? Tell the others to deliver their prescriptions and prepare to head out. We leave at dawn for Camelot," he ordered, and couldn't help but laugh when his friend whooped and jumped into the air elatedly. _

_"__Yes, alright! We're going to Camelot!" He cheered as he ran from the hut to do as Merlin asked. Merlin turned to his supplies, supplies he had picked and gathered with his own hands, and grinned as a tearful laugh ripped itself from his throat. After almost a year away, he was on his way to Camelot once more, to his family and friends. _

_He was coming home!_

* * *

Five years later:

Lightning roared in the sky, and to Arthur the following thunder sounded like Kilgarrah's roar of fury that had echoed across the plains of Albion the previous day. The cobblestone beneath his feet was still damp from the hard rain that had fallen that day. The smell of dampness and smoke from the fires permeated the air. It was quiet, peaceful, the moon a shining beacon of hope.

Arthur drove his sword-Excalibur- into the dummy torso, and violently _ripped,_ fraying several strands of hay and fake clothing. Thunder rolled in the sky again, he saw a flash behind his back, and he did not care, did not go back inside, he merely continued to beat the dummy senseless because at that moment it was the only thing he could beat without repercussions.

Damn Council, stupid rules, damn stupid life.

He did not see Guinevere until she was right beside him, watching him with wide and compassionate brown eyes in the moonlight. She was wearing nothing but her sleep clothes, and a thin blood red silk robe to cover her near nakedness. Arthur stopped his activity, aghast to see her barefooted on the wet cobblestone, and in the cold streets of Autumn Camelot.

"Guinevere! What are you doing here?" He gasped. Even in the darkness of night with only the indifferent moon to cast light on her, she was the most transfixing and beautiful sight he has the privilege to see in his life. He fights back the urge to hold her in his arms and crush her against him until their skins blend, and they are one in body as well as spirit.

"I could ask you the same," she replied calmly, as if she _wouldn't_ catch her death out here. Granted, Arthur was barefoot and in sleeping clothes too, but he was King. King's didn't get sick, they gallantly fell unwell.

However, Arthur knew that she wouldn't go until he spoke, until he told her why he was out there in the first place. He returned to his dummy slaying with newfound passion as he remembered why he was out there.

"They're fools," he growled. "Selfish, unseeing, prejudice fools. They don't understand! How can they just sit there while Merlin is who-knows-where going through who-knows-what?" He hissed furiously.

"Arthur, it has been _three years_…"

"I don't care how long it has been, Gwen! He needs me!" Arthur slashed down on the pretend Councilor's arm neatly disconnecting it from his body. "And the Council has forbidden me from continuing my search! How could they do this?" he gasped out. Gwen sighed and crossed her arms, her large eyes pools of sorrow…And resolve.

"Arthur…You have searched every corner of the Five Kingdoms for five years. You have sent out more Knights than any King ever did for his own blood kin, and never relented in your search. If we haven't found Merlin by now…" She trailed off, but Arthur knew what she meant to say anyway, and it made his blood boil. How could she, of all people, not realize? She, who knew them the best?

"He's alive, Gwen. I know he is!" He stabbed again, feeling cold sweat run down his skin, tickling beneath his arms and soaking his trousers, but he didn't care. He had no time to notice. He wanted one person and he was not there.

He stopped stabbing, gasping as he turned to her. He needed her to understand. "Don't you see, Guinevere?" he gasped out. "You know how strong a bond we had…"

She nodded sadly. "I've always known, even before you did," she whispered. Arthur felt his heart twist. Merlin had been one of Gwen's closest friends. It had been Merlin who had helped her through the horrible few months after Arthur had banished her, sending her to Hunith in Ealdor and supplying her with a constant stream of letters letting her know how everything was going, giving her a reason to continue on.

She had never complained about Arthur's apparent obsession, never had she once shown anger or resentment when his searches for Merlin took him away from home for months at a time, trickling down only after their first born came into the world. And even then, she had not complained. She had only encouraged and supported him all through the ordeal. He knew that this hurt her almost as much as it did him.

His eyes softened. "Then _you_, of all people, should know that I would be the first one to feel it if is soul left this world. And I haven't felt it, so he's alive, and so long as he lives, there is hope, and so long as there is hope," he gritted his teeth. "I will _never_ give up on him," he ground out.

Gwen shifted uncomfortably. "Arthur, has it ever occurred to you that Merlin might not _want _to come back?" She asked. Arthur blinked at her confusedly.

"What?" He gasped.

"Well… What if Merlin has found something else-_someone_ else- that brings forth his loyalty and love? What if there are people out there who need Emrys more than we do and he's taking care of them? What if he's found a new home and a new family?" Arthur's heart, having skipped a beat already, skipped two when Gwen gazed at him solemnly. "What if he's moved on?" She whispered.

Arthur felt as if someone had stabbed him through the heart. "No," he breathed, taking a step backwards. The thought of Merlin with anyone else, serving any other King…It filled him with an irrevocable sense of loss. He had always teased Merlin about being a bloody awful servant, but he had never before thought he'd look back at those moments and wish Merlin would return to servitude so much. "He promised me…"

"You know sometime promises have to be broken. Arthur, I'm not saying he doesn't care for us anymore, I'm saying that maybe…" Gwen gulped. "Maybe he has found a new purpose in life. Would it really be fair, if you were to find him, to take him from that purpose? He might have a wife now, a family, children…." She insisted firmly, but with kindness. Arthur shook his head,

"Then why wouldn't he bring them back to Camelot?" he demanded. "He has a home here, Gwen, he already has a purpose. He would never abandon…Us," he stated in his friend's defense. Gwen's smile wavered. A tear ran down her cheek. Thunder rumbled above.

"You mean he would never abandon _you,_" Arthur raised his chin, daring her to contradict him. "And that's true. He hasn't, I believe he never will. He'll always be with you. Arthur, he _made _you," she took a few steps forward until they were only inches apart, bare foot and barely clothed, as vulnerable and defenseless against the elements as they had been against his father's strict regime.

"The love you had for each other will never fade, but if he hasn't returned by now, there must be a reason,"

"He's in trouble,"

"Or, he's moved on," Arthur wanted to drop to his knees and cry out as the truth of what Gwen was saying hit him. It could be true that Merlin had moved on, that his friend had found a better and braver King to serve under, one who did not undermine him and mercilessly taunt him as if he were not important.

As if he were no body. What if Merlin had indeed found a new purpose and a new home? Was it right for Arthur to take him from that? Was it fair to assume that he was the center of Emrys's life? Merlin had other loves, other friends…

He had a life too, and if he did not want Arthur to be part of it…

Arthur Pendragon groaned, and tasted something salty in his mouth. Without realizing it, he had collapsed to his knees on the wet cobblestone. Gwen knelt beside him as he stared ahead, at the streets Merlin had once skipped down happily.

"He has to come home. He promised me, Gwen… He _promised me_…" he tried to hold unto the stray pieces of belief that he still had. After five years of waiting, of searching, he was tired. So tired. Maybe Gwen was right, perhaps Merlin was truly gone.

"Oh, Arthur," his wife said softly, rubbing his back comfortingly. "He would be so _proud_ of what you've done. He loved Camelot, and I'm sure…" The comforting words immediately came to a stop when a familiar figure came riding up in the darkness.

Arthur surged to his feet, and hurriedly wiped away any traces of tears as Sir Gwaine appeared out of the gloom. The white stallion, frisky and determined as its rider, came to a loud clopping stop before the two matriarchs. Gwaine's face was alight with relief, and to Arthur's surprise, he saw a mixture of urgency and hope in Gwaine's eyes, more than he had seen since Merlin left.

"Sire…" Gwaine's voice cracked as he hopped off his horse and quickly enveloped Gwen in a brotherly bear hug, spinning her as he laughed past his tears. Then he turned, nearly killing Arthur with his hearty shoulder claps.

"Sire… It's a miracle…Or, I suppose not really, but it is amazing how long he's held out. He has a good chance. We've kept him warm and dry, but he's still…" Arthur shoved Gwaine away before he dislocated Arthur's shoulder.

"What are you going on about, Gwaine?" he demanded of his trusted knight. Was the man drunk again?

"Merlin," Arthur's blood ran cold and he paled as Gwen gasped. "It's Merlin. He's alive. We've found him," Gwaine let a few more tears leak out.

"We found him Arthur."


	3. Chapter 3

_The others were smart. They wanted to go on. When they saw the outline of a village in the distance, and a small boy came forward from that village, sniffling and telling them that his mother was sick, he should have gone on. He had seen the anxiety and impatience in the gazes of the others as they looked back at him their leader, driving their pack horses and pulling their wagons of supplies. _

_They were barely a day's ride away from Camelot's borders. There would be a home, friends, family, freedom. His dreams fulfilled at last, and Merlin was just as eager as the rest of them. The thoughts of Gwen, Gaius, Gwaine, Leon, Percival and Arthur had spurred him into pushing them day and night, until this moment when he was nearing the land of his choosing. He may not have been born on Camelot land, but he was just as much a citizen as anyone else. Camelot was in his blood, as surely as his magic was in Arthur's. He had been able to hear the magic of the land singing to him, and the fresh breezes tickle his nose. How dearly he had wanted to go home..._

_And he had been a fool instead. He could have been home. _

"It is only one sick woman,"_those dear, intelligent people insisted, trying to convince him to come despite the small child who clung to Merlin's hand and begged him with large eyes._

"She's probably come down with nothing more than a common cold if no one else is affected. Come, Merlin, we're so close," _but he had been a fool, lured by the boy's sniffles and the thought of being able to tell Gaius about all the people had had cured with the skills that only the physician had taught him. He had been on fifty-nine when the boy had come. He had wanted sixty, and it was for that alone did he tell the others to go on without him while he took the youngsters betraying hand and let him lead Merlin towards the small village. _

_Two years later, and Merlin still wondered whatever had possessed him to walk more than a foot into the strange village, and with the few hours that he remained conscious he pondered over the consequences of having a large heart. The town had looked abandoned when he had arrived. _

_There had been no one in entire village but the occasional chicken scratching at the ground. The fields had been empty of men working, and he had seen no women anywhere to tend the clothing or cook on communal fires. The magic of the place had suffocated him- then he had assumed it was the darkness of sickness, but he knew better later. _

_Oh, yes, Merlin learned the truth of the matter later on. The boy had hurriedly scampered off when they had gotten to the house, and Merlin wished he had run then, but he hadn't, only continued to let the child lead him into a dark house, half crumpled beneath the weight of holding itself up. _

_He had heard no coughing, had been nowhere near any sickness so far as his magic could tell, and only the memory that he was Emrys the Immortal and thus obliged to anyone who needed his services had spurred him on. _

_It was his bravery and his heart that he had followed, and that was what had been his doom. Inevitably, he had come across a face as unfamiliar as it would become familiar. Maurus had been sitting in a chair by the fire, a woman writhing on the ground at his feet. When Merlin had arrived, the woman's whimpers of pain had ceased, the cruel magic being inflicted upon her ended. The boy had collapsed by his mother's side, crying, as Merlin had jumped into action, already conjuring a ring of fire to separate the woman and the mysterious man in the rocking chair. _

_Until his death, Merlin remembered the words that sealed his agonizing, three year long imprisonment. _

_"__Merlin Emrys... I've been waiting for you." _

* * *

"We found him just inside our borders...Or, actually, he was _outside _our borders. By a few feet, but we saw an unmoving body in the fields beyond the darkling woods and decided to investigate," Gwaine was explaining for Arthur's benefit for the tenth time that hour as they waited inside of the Royal Conference room to be called for.

Around him, the Knights of the Round Table had gathered. Gwen was still dabbing at her wet cheeks with a handkerchief, listening with rapt attention to Gwaine and Percival's account. Arthur stood before them with crossed arms. His face was strained, and his foot tapped with the impatience of a child at wait for his mother to tell him a bedtime story. Yet the pain and worry in his eyes was a very real and old emotion, crafted at the beginning of time when the Prophecy that dictated his life had been written by forces unknown.

Merlin had been in Gaius's chambers for a better part of three hours. And during those three hours Arthur's heart had been galloping happily away, roaring that he should be there, he should be at Merlin's side no matter what. The fact that he was not was tearing him apart. Five years, it had been five years. How much longer did Gaius expect him to wait?

"Was he alone?" Leon asked, his expressive eyes perhaps more concerned than even Arthur's. In the brief time that Sir Leon had known about Merlin's magic and all that he had done, the Knight's respect for the man had grown exponentially almost overnight. He had tirelessly led the searches for Merlin when Arthur was not able too over the years and for that the King kept him as a right-hand man. Any man willing to serve Merlin was worthy to be his closest confidant.

"Completely," Percival answered at once. "I was so shocked at the state of him I thought that someone must be in pursuit of him. I still feel like that, admittedly,"  
Percival shivered, and then Arthur swore that if there was a malignant force after his brother, it would have to go through Arthur to get to him. Merlin had spent years looking after him. Now it was the King's turn.

"After all this time…" Gwen sniffled, with a watery smile. "I never thought we'd see him again," her eyes flicked to Arthur. He smiled, remembering the conversation that they had been having just before Gwaine arrived. "But you never gave up, Arthur. I should have listened to you," he waved away the attempt at apology.

"You were merely being practical and honest with me as always, Guinevere," he forgave easily. "It is why I love you. For now, I only want to get my hands on Merlin and make sure he never has a moment of discomfort again," his heart burned with the protective need to stabilize a companionship that had been missing for five years, to give his friend even an ounce of what he had been given.

"I'm afraid that may not be an option, sire," Arthur almost jumped out of his skin when the tired and trembling voice of Gaius was suddenly piping up behind him. He swiveled, in time with everyone else, to see the elderly physician standing in the doorway. His eyes were large, haunted. It was the same look that Arthur had seen on many veterans of war. Suddenly, his mouth was too dry to speak.

"What do you mean, Gaius? How is he?" Gwaine had no such problem. He moved forward, face twisted into anxiety. Gaius stared at Gwaine for a long moment, unblinking, before his eyes wandered over each of them in turn. His grayish blue eyes slowly searched each face, as if he had to commit it to memory, before he shook his head slowly.

"How is he?" He repeated hollowly. Arthur felt Gwen's hand slide into his own. He squeezed it, hoping she could not feel how hard he was trembling. Or was she trembling too?

"He is…" Gaius's breath hitched, and the older man swallowed hard. Whether he was swallowing back vomit or a sob Arthur did not know, and frankly did not want to find out. He had never seen Gaius cry before. "He is in great pain, sire. Pain that I fear he will never recover from," Gaius took a breath to steady his quivering voice. Arthur intersected before he could speak again,

"Merlin is strong," he stated with utmost confidence.

Gaius gave him a look half of infinite sadness and half of sympathetic anger. "Arthur," he said gravely. "Merlin has been tortured to the brink of human control."


	4. Chapter 4

_Merlin was woken out of his blissful experience in the haven of unconsciousness, in a dreamland where Arthur and Gwen and Gaius thrived… by the boiling water that hit his face. It was the shock, merely, that sent a painful shudder up his spine. He gasped from the heat, whereas he had already been freezing. "Good morning sunshine!"Oh, it was __**him**__ again. _

_Merlin opened one swollen black eye and sorely regretted it. He was doused with another tub of water, and his numb skin burned with the extra heat. Maurus always kept him underground, where the damp and lack of light led to below zero temperatures. That in itself would not have daunted him if had he not been stripped of his shirt. _

_He was bare-chested, and the small hairs adorning his upper body were stiff and covered with tiny ice crystals. Ice had started to form in his scruffy chin. But the cold was nothing, no; it was the pain that bothered him. _

_From what Gaius had told him about human anatomy, the human hand was a series of levers and pulleys, and the pain of even having a broken finger was supposed to be able to bring a strong full-grown man to his knees in excruciating agony. _

_That was not exaggerated; for every time Merlin tried to stand he was hit with a nausea so fierce he fell for the pure fact that he felt the world wobble under his feet. It was his hands that were the worst. Merlin was absolutely positive that he could have gone the __**rest **__of his life not knowing the pain his old mentor had described. It had seemed much simpler in a book. _

_Both of his hands were broken, and every finger on them. The chain around his neck would have prevented him from standing all the same. The anger that built in Merlin's chest at this thought triggered his magic… And his magic triggered the collar. One of Uther's original design, meant to counter balance any magic the prisoner may have. _

_Merlin's worked wonderfully. _

_Immediately, the collar around his neck sensed the magic. Obi-wan hissed in pain as his body was suddenly set aflame, traveling along every vessel and pore in his body like lightning. He screamed. Maurus, above him, smiled. _

_Merlin's head spun as he toppled forward, he pitched out his arms to catch himself and landed right on crushed hands. He moaned in agony as he felt the sharp pain reverberate from his fingertips to his toes. He lay there at Bruck's feet, struggling at control. _

_ "__The most determined soul can control pain through deep breaths" Arthur had always counseled his Knights during training. The words echoed in his mind as he gasped for breath, his clothes, hair and skin dripped with sweat and jerked with little volts of pain every once in awhile. _

_His skin was starting to lose heat again. He had been able to feel the warmth his body generated normally for a mere few seconds, and it had been wonderful, yet now he was going to freeze again. _

_ "__Having fun, Emrys the Immortal, Emrys the mighty?" Maurus wondered, rocking on his heels. He was childishly insane. Merlin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. _

_"__Not exactly," he forced his beaten and bloody lips to reply. He wasn't drained of tenacity yet. After all, three months was not enough to break him. He had endured much worse while in Arthur's service. "I'm a bit bored, honestly. You ought to learn how to be a better host," it was idiotic, he knew, to antagonize Maurus. However surely the maniac expected nothing less. _

_As if to agree, his magic flared, and the collar sent another bolt of pain up his spine. Merlin clenched his teeth hard. He would not let Maurus hear his pain. He had more dignity than that. Nevertheless, his scorched vocal pipes let out another groan of pain. He sunk back to the ground, unable to push himself up to look Maurus in the eye. Helplessness floated through him, making fury flare in his soul. _

_He hated being helpless. He was Emrys, for goodness sakes. He was __**Emrys.**_

_Maurus knelt beside him and put a hard, calloused hand on Merlin's shoulder. The warlock tensed. "Don't touch me," he hissed maliciously. _

_Maurus paid no heed to his words. Instead, he ran a finger down Merlin's bare back licentiously, gently tracing the dozens of scars there. The physical proof of Merlin's loyalty to Arthur and Albion. "You have been hurt before. Years of toil, all written like calligraphy upon your skin…Tell me Emrys, has anyone ever tamed you?" Maurus wondered conversationally. _

_Calm down, let it go, he appealed to himself as the humiliation of his helplessness and the indignity of Maurus touch sent his anger near the edge of its bounds. If he became angry his magic would come to his defense, and Merlin would rather not go through such pain again. He had informally trained himself in self-discipline for years. He had conquered anger, fear and prejudice before, and never been broken, never had snapped. _

_ "__Never will anyone tame me," his voice was calm though his body shivered with cold and anger. You saved Arthur, The Knights and Camelot. This is nothing compared to their lives, that calmed him. At least Arthur was still all right. In that, Merlin found strength. _

_ "__Never? Arrogant words for a humbled man. You know," Maurus patted Merlin's back fondly and slipped a small dagger from his booth sheathe. Eyeing it with affection, he smiled. Merlin watched him from the corner of his eyes and struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. That sent the entire vicinity to spin, and he groaned as he fell back over. _

_ "__You and I, Emrys are not so different," with motherly tenderness, Maurus took his knife and skimmed it over Merlin's skin, making thin yet deep slits in his flesh. Merlin tensed and prepared himself for the pain._

_ "__We both have ambition; we are charming and can manipulate. Determined, proud and strong, defiant and loyal. The only difference between us is the past," Maurus sighed repentantly and lifted the knife, studying whatever pattern he had shaped into Merlin's flesh with interest. _

_Fury, hot and steely, built in Merlin's chest. He swallowed his humiliation and pain. "Exhibit A: I tried to help my people. I stayed with the druids when they were being executed; I stood up to the cowards of Camelot. I was their savior!" This was accentuated with a small jab at Merlin's back, making a dot and also sending a sharp ripple to his brain. Instinctively, his body twitched. _

_He let out a growl. Maurus chuckled at the sound, as if Merlin were a child that had spoken his first word incorrectly. "And __**you**__, you played lap dog to a foreign prince. You defended those murderers. You betrayed us all, you are the reason my family is dead. You, and that stupid King," a slow exhalation of breath. "But that's the past, I suppose. No need to dwell on it," Maurus mumbled, calmer this time._

_Merlin glanced up, intending to let out a very witty remark when he suddenly was yanked upwards by the chain around his neck. He choked on a scream as Maurus __**slashed **__down violently. A long, jagged cut ran down the length of his chest. The blood burned the sensitive skin. _

_Merlin scrabbled at his throat while at the same time struggling to get away from Maurus. His efforts only made Maurus yank him closer, close enough that the maniac's voice tickled his ear. "That," Maurus continued, lowering his voice threateningly. "Is the pain I'm going to make you feel every day, in every way, for the rest of your life. There is no escape from this, from me. You will live in agony and despair. You will breathe in darkness and evil. You will see no mercy, no light ever again. You will never feel the thrill of freedom or joy. Do you understand? Until the day I finally decide to let you die, you are mine," he bent down, blocking out everything else with his own face. _

_ "__So I hope serving the Pendragon over your people was worth it, because you are never going to see him again. He's abandoned you, your precious light and love. Welcome," he smiled bitterly and Merlin's breath hitched in his throat. "To eternal nighttime. To never-ending malice. To my_ _revenge, my slave," and then the world disappeared into unconsciousness. _


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur had always hated his birthday. His hatred was for disparate reasons, admittedly. When he was younger, he used to despise it because it made his father sad. For the same day that the Kingdom celebrated the birthday of its Prince was the day it mourned its former queen, and the occasion had always brought mixed feelings to King Uther. However as he had grown up, the reason had begun to differ, morph,_ change_ into something that was less about his own losses and instead the losses of his kingdom.

As time went on, Arthur hated his birthday because he always spent it alone.

Not alone in the physical sense. Every year for his birthday, to his perpetual disgruntlement, there was some huge festivity and party that everyone who was considered anyone in all the five kingdoms came too.

No, Arthur was hardly ever alone even in daily life. He did not expect to attend a birthday celebration where he was, but as a child growing up he had been a stray dot of abandoned light in an otherwise shadowed room. He had possessed only followers, not friends. He had felt only sadness from his father and neutral nostalgia from Gaius. Arthur had grown up very, very alone.

Then he had met Merlin. It seemed centuries beforehand that he had first been confronted by a scrawny boy with a mop of raven black hair upon a rather waifish and grubby face telling him what to do. For the first time, he had been told what to do and though he had never said it aloud, it was that day that he had first thought that Merlin was the bravest man he had ever met.

That belief sustained through the many years they had been worked side by side as servant and noble, then as King and warlock. Merlin had become Arthur's first friend, refusing to follow or bow down to him. Refusing to let him remain on the pedestal, chained like a slave upon an auction block to be sold to whatever kingdom crisis and old tradition offered the highest bidding. Merlin had not only befriended him, he had saved Arthur from a life of slavery to things as inconsequential as tradition and stricture, decorum and prejudice. Merlin had saved his kingdom, his wife, his Knights.

Merlin, eventually, became his savior, and though he didn't always know it, it was Merlin that he admired the most. It was why he had found any excuse to sneak away from his birthday celebrations and tease Merlin, skulking in the corner with a tray in hand ready to serve.

The situation had changed, but Arthur still snuck away to see Merlin.

The abused warlock had been back at court for three weeks when Arthur's birthday celebrations took everyone-including Gaius-away from their homes for the night. He had let Gwen make this year's celebrations especially extravagant; all the easier to sneak away when everyone was occupied. Besides, Gwaine had agreed to keep Gaius occupied until Arthur returned.

The reason that Gaius had to be distracted in the first place was because of what he had told Arthur three weeks prior. Merlin had been tortured to the very brink of human sanity, and he was nowhere near healing on any scale_. _

_"__It wouldn't be safe, Sire,"_ Gaius kept telling him, even when Arthur begged just for a moment, a peek of the friend that for five years, he had tirelessly searched for. _"He's hardly awake anyhow, and when he is, he doesn't know where he is. His mind is addled. His body is broken. Seeing you… I'm not sure what it would do to him. Wait until he's better, please,"_ but how could he? How could Arthur just sit by while his brother was in agonizing pain? Didn't Gaius understand that he could feel it, every heart wrenching moment of agony that spread like waves through Merlin's body every second? He could _feel_ it.

Yet Gaius had forbidden him to see his old friend. At times, when rage and frustration built inside of Arthur like a bubbling cauldron, he had had entertained the passing fancy that he could technically have Gaius beheaded for ordering his King to stay away from his brother, healing or no. After five years, Arthur was desperate to see his other half, the separate side to his soul, Emrys the Almighty. Merlin. He had to see him if only for a second to know that the nightmare was over, if only just to_ touch_ him and know that Arthur was not alone.

Sneaking past the sorcerers standing guard at the Castle doors was no easy feat, but Iseldir had granted him a small mercy this day of their Sovereign's birth. He had ordered the men beneath his charge to ignore the King when, bathed in the darkness of his red cloak, he stole out of the castle and down to Gaius's chamber where Merlin would be. The bigger mercy was that Iseldir had also ordered the guards standing watch outside of Gaius's door to do the same. Merlin was under constant surveillance, everyone had agreed it to be for the best. Whoever had done this to him might still be out there, and Arthur would be seen dead before anyone saw his Court Sorcerer hurt.

The night was stiflingly silent, as if the magic in the air held its breath as Arthur slowly pushed the door to Gaius's chamber open, and stepped inside. It closed behind him with a creek; barring the guards outside. Arthur's eyes swept the dimly lit room, and had he not been expecting to see Geoffrey there, he might have pulled his sword in fright. The elderly bookkeeper was seated at Gaius's desk, studying a parchment beneath several glowing candles. The candles gave light as golden as Merlin's eyes, and they suckled the air greedily, trying to save themselves from stifling starvation.

Geoffrey glanced up when he heard Arthur's footsteps. His light blue eyes were like ice in the candlelight, protectively glaring Arthur down. He had been the last sentinel against him, Arthur knew. The man Gaius trusted implicitly to keep Arthur out by pure negotiation, but the King also knew he had one last card to play that would squander Gaius's last reserve. He was a warrior and military general after all.

Silently, the King took off his flaming red Camelot cloak, and splayed it across a chair. Geoffrey watched him closely, saying nothing, and yet the dark silence surrounding them was more impactful than any warning or creed. Arthur could hear the unspoken admonitions in his mind.

_"__It's too early to see him,"_

_"__He probably won't even know you're there,"_

_"__He's been tortured to the brink of human endurance,"_

_"__Wait until he heals,"_

"_His body is broken. Seeing you… I'm not sure what it would do to him." _

Slowly, he took off his ceremonial chainmail and armor, snapped off his gauntlets and gloves, and finally laid his crown and sword to rest beside the other Kingly possessions. He shook his hair out of his tight hold, and stood before Geoffrey in only his a thin cotton white shirt, riding pants and boots.

He stood before him not as a King, but as a brother.

The elderly bookkeeper cocked a Gaius like eyebrow, waiting. Arthur did not keep him in a state of suspense long. He glanced at the doorway above, where Merlin was, and his heart throbbed. After five years, he was so close_, so close._ He couldn't let anyone stop him now. He looked back down at Geoffrey and used the most deadly weapon he had ever found upon the Earth.

Truth.

"Please," his voice was hoarse with frustration, desperation, loneliness, pain. "It's been five years, Geoffrey, _five years_ where I didn't know if he was dead or alive, five years that I spent searching every square inch of the five kingdoms and beyond for him, five years that have been stolen from us both for without him I have been nothing but a shell and he nothing more than a plaything for destiny," his fists clenched.

Gwaine had found him face down in a forest; the strongest and bravest man Arthur had ever met had been lying near death on the _dirty forest floor._ The very image of it inspired such deep rage that Arthur wanted to hit something all over again. He calmed himself, for Merlin's sake.

"I understand why I've been kept from him," because the reasons he had been given had only been the partial truth. Gaius had not wanted Arthur to see Merlin not for Merlin's sake, but his own. If Merlin were to die from his injuries, better that Arthur had never seen him; had never been allowed to_ hope_, than the other way around. Yet Arthur had made his decision. "No more. He needs me now, Geoffrey, I can feel it. And I need him. I need this nightmare to end, if only for a second. So please, I _beg _you, give me a second with my brother," he implored.

There were tears melting the ice of Geoffrey's eyes now. He glanced at the doorway as one melted down his cheek and dribbled off his chin. "Arthur," the man had never used his birth name before. "It will break your heart," he whispered. Arthur felt a sudden stab of fear. He knew what torture looked like; he knew what it could be. Did he want to see it on Merlin?

"That's a risk I am willing to take, for him," he whispered. Geoffrey stared at him another long moment before he drew in a shuddering breath and nodded.

"A second," relief and joy bloomed in Arthur's soul. He squeezed Geoffrey's shoulder.

"Thank you," and without another word, his heart hammering in his ears and tears already springing into his eyes, he shot up the few steps to gently push open the door.

Slowly, the light from downstairs illuminated the pitch black room. Arthur couldn't see much but a lump lying on the bed and a flash of raven colored hair. Hands trembling, he lit the other candles by Merlin's bedside. He had to see him, had to see his face, had to know that this nightmare was really over. Arthur inhaled a shuddering breath and sent a prayer to the heavens. _Please let this be over. _

Then, he turned to see the man lying on the bed.

And collapsed to his knees.


	6. Chapter 6

_With deliberate slowness, Merlin was reintroduced to the light. He hissed and quickly turned his eyes away when they burned beneath the vicious glare of the sudden influx of brightness. His hair, overgrown and dirt encrusted, smelling of the metallic tang of his own blood and sweat, matted near his giant ears and swayed into his eyes when he moved his head with a groan. _

_The light was followed by a deceptively cheery voice. "Good morning, Emrys!" Merlin groaned again, this time past the gag in his mouth. Without gentleness, he suddenly found the distasteful and dirty rag snatched from between his teeth. He immediately began spitting unto the ground, blood trickling along with sweat to his chest. His arms, shackled to the wall above his head, ached with the sudden movement. _

_He had become accustomed to just letting himself hang there, staring into darkness, unable to reach that vital part of him until the Monster came back with all his light and his magic and his cruelty, and he made Merlin feel a pain beyond all pains. This had become his life in the past two years. And to think, if he hadn't stopped by this village, he might have been home by now. He'd be with Arthur, and his family. _

_To think, he would be free. _

_"__My, my, you don't look so good, old friend!" If there was one thing that the warlock knew, it was that he was not this demon's friend. He had known friendship, and this was not it. He looked up, trying to rekindle that spark of defiance that had kept him sustained for the first few months. Now, it only seemed a waste of energy. Nonetheless, for Arthur's memory, Merlin tried. _

_The monster threw his head back and laughed-it was a shrill, irritating sound- and Merlin knew he had failed. "Today is the day of the King's birth, Emrys. Would you like an insight to the party?" Merlin's heart skipped a beat, whether from excitement or anger he had never been able to tell. Of all the ways that the Monster had found to hurt him, this way hurt the most. _

_Getting a glimpse at the Camelot he had helped build…The Kingdom that was growing without him. It was excruciating, and yet any moment where he saw Arthur filled his veins with strength, gave him an endurance that lacked at the darkest of moments. Merlin was not stupid enough to believe that there was not some other agenda behind Maurus's sudden mercy, but he did not complain. _

_He decided instead that the incoming agony would be enough if only he could see his friends again. Merlin nodded. And the picture that suddenly materialized out of thin air, like water being rippled by a rock thrown into its depths, made him cringe and go slack in his chains. _

_It had been too long since he had last seen his brother. _

_Arthur was in full Camelot regalia. He looked like a true King. He was surrounded by Sorcerers and Knights, all with serious and observant faces as their eyes swept the crowd for anyone who might pose a danger to their King. Arthur looked like he was riding through town square towards the Citadel waving at the crowd. His eyes had bags beneath them and the wrinkles around his eyes spoke of stress. Merlin wished he could be there to smooth them away with a joke or jibe. _

_"__Long live the King! Long live the king!" Merlin felt a small smile pull at the sides of his mouth at hearing the burbled sounds of cheering coming from the crowd. He watched as sorcerers in the crowd spelled flowers and gave them to others to toss in Arthur's path. He smiled at the children, exhaustion lining every portion of his face, and accepted the praise magnanimously. _

_"__The King has just returned from a long campaign elsewhere," Maurus said, interrupting Merlin by stepping directly in front of the picture. The Warlock's smile fell, and he narrowed his eyes, waiting for the catch. "He traveled too deeply into another kingdom you see. He's spent three months away from the Kingdom looking for a certain friend of his," Maurus's smile was bitter and psychotic. "And ended up exposing a kingdom whose king was selling his subjects into slavery. He fought for the land, and got it. He's now king of most of the Five Kingdoms. It seems the Prophecy is coming true, Emrys," he said. _

_Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you happy?' he mumbled sarcastically. Maurus let out a small giggle. _

_"__Oh, I am because for all the kingdoms he conquers and all the lives he saves, he knows that he has yet to conquer the sins of his family. After all, how can he save his soul if-" Merlin screamed as suddenly a searing pan rushed through his veins. Every muscle stiffened as electrifying magic tore through him, tearing and ripping without ever truly breaking anything vital. Maurus smiled. The pain ended, and Merlin sagged in his chains. "He can't even save his best friend? I'm not only taking revenge on you, Emrys, no. I'm taking it out on the king, too, look at him," he grabbed Merlin's face between two fingers and steered his eyes towards Arthur again. _

_"__He looks so unhappy, so lost. He looks so tired. He needs you Emrys, he needs you and you aren't there. How much do you think that knowledge is eating him alive?" he asked. _

_Merlin had vigor only to gasp out. "Arthur is strong," Maurus chuckled. _

_"__True. He is the Once and Future King. But what about you, Emrys? What would you do if I left you in here for awhile and attended the party?" Merlin's blood froze. He blinked at Maurus. _

_"__He's under constant guard, by Knights and sorcerers alike. You'd never touch him," he gasped, trying to convince himself more than dissuade Maurus. His heart hammered in his ears. "Besides, if you killed him you would lose leverage over me to make me behave," he pointed out. Maurus shrugged._

_"__You know how talented a sorcerer I am. Besides, whoever said I would kill him? There are other targets. His wife, his knights, his physician, his son perhaps… I already have his best friend. Speaking of being best friends forever, I had an idea last night," Merlin felt more than saw the cold glint of the knife Maurus slipped out of his cloak. _

_His muscles stiffened without his consent. Maurus noticed and snickered softly. The maniac look in his eyes that Merlin had long ago learned to fear sparked a sudden fire in the warlock. Something bad was going to happen. Maurus only got that excited when he was going to deliver a fresh bout of pain. _

_Merlin kept his eyes trained straight ahead, on Arthur's face, trying to draw strength from what he knew was only a picture. Once again, frustration built within him until he was nearly choking on it. He had been so close-so blasted close- to being home! He was only a few miles away from Camelot, from safety and family and friends and his dreams! Merlin felt rage grow within him until he severely wanted to hit something. His magic bubbled lie a cauldron. _

_"__Wow!" Maurus warned when the shackled on Merlin's wrists began to glow red, a sure sign of his magic coming to life again. The red burned the skin of his wrists, but Merlin didn't care. Maurus met his eyes. They stared at each other a long time, Maurus holding the knife, and the stench of burning flesh cutting through the air._

_His anger kept it at bay however, that was until Maurus narrowed his eyes threateningly. With a wave of his hand, he casually announced "it seems you don't need any more pictures of Pendragons, then." The image vanished. Merlin was once again swathed in virtual darkness, and though he didn't hear himself cry out in anguish he knew from the satisfaction of Maurus's smile that it had possessed every sliver of pain that he felt in his heart. _

_The worst part of being captured was that he knew he was so close to home. So very, very close. He wanted to scream with it. Before he could actually do that however, Maurus had crept closer, brandishing the knife in front of Merlin's face. He grinned and held it mere centimeters away from Merlin's face. Sweat itched at the back of the warlocks face. _

_"__This," Maurus said softly, with almost pity and remorse in his eyes, though his voice was matter of fact. "Is going to be excruciating."_


	7. Chapter 7

The floor bruised his knees, but Arthur hardly registered the sudden sharp pain made worse by the old wounds already there. His travels had taken him to many places, and those in turn had led to many battles and wars, all of them fought in Merlin's name.

The name of the… Skeleton that laid in bed before him.

Arthur had let out a small noise of shock and heartbreak a moment earlier, but those noises had dulled until all Arthur could hear was his own harsh gags and his racing heart. Merlin… His best friend, his brother, the face he had so yearned to see these past five years-he was gone. That face was gone, replaced by one not only significantly older, but… _Broken._

Arthur took in every gruesome fact as if it were his own body that lay there upon the bed, and his soul were merely floating above it taking inventory. A thick mane of black hair had taken over most of Merlin's face, added by a scraggly beard.

There were several cuts-whip cuts- zigzagging across Merlin's face, which was sweaty and moist with fever. His formerly thin eyebrows were bushy and lacerated, probably by the cuts, and were puffed up and bloody. Arthur's eyes traveled down. He saw the mark of hands and chains around his neck.

Going further down, Anakin noticed another adoring feature. Merlin had been starved. Arthur could name and see every bone in his body, from the tiny ones that made up most of the wrist and finger bones to the large and long bones of Merlin's ribs. But the worst… The very worst came when Arthur's eyes caught a glint of light from the candle reflecting off the porcelain skin.

And saw a dark, curving slope on Merlin's arm. Slowly, legs shaking, he stood. As hesitantly as if he were going into the worst battle of his life, he approached, and stood over Merlin to get a better view. He dared not touch him. He was afraid that if he did, the body beneath would turn to ash and vanish forever. Arthur couldn't live with that.

One of Merlin's abused hands lay above the bedclothes and Arthur could see what the dark slithering thing was. It was a tattoo, cut and sewed into Merlin's skin. It was a dragon, going from the top of Merlin's shoulders down to the edge of his knuckles. Both arms. Arthur sobbed aloud, and had to cover his mouth quickly to stifle the sound.

It was the Pendragon crest. Someone had _carved_ the Pendragon crest into Merlin's arms.

Arthur turned away, gagging. His stomach roiled with disgust. _Oh, my brother, what has been done to you? What monster could possibly do this to you? _With tears in his eyes, Arthur looked back down at Merlin and almost let out a shout of alarm when he saw haunted, empty eyes staring back at him. He jumped, quickly backing away, and instantly felt guilt and shame. How could he have just done that? After all that Merlin had gone through, how could…?

And then a different fear crept into his heart. What if Merlin didn't know who he was? He was just _staring_ at Arthur after all, as if he didn't know who he was or what he was doing there. What if he had lost his memory and never remembered the king at all? Arthur didn't know what was worse: death or… _That._

_Please,_ he implored whatever force was willing to hear. _Please, don't take him from me again. _

"My King?" That was Geoffrey calling. Arthur willed him to go away. "Are you alright?" Alright? How could Arthur ever be alright again after seeing what he could see now? How would he ever erase this image from his mind now when there was nothing he could do to ease Merlin's suffering?

Frustration and sadness welled within him_. No,_ Arthur decided as tears ran unhindered down his cheeks and Merlin continued to stare at him blankly. _No, I won't accept that. He's my soul-brother, the other side to my coin. If he doesn't remember, I'll __**make**__ him remember._

"Arthur?" He saw a shadow in the doorway. Merlin's eyes swiveled to take in Geoffrey, halting the older man in place at his spot at the bottom of the stairs. The bookkeeper cursed beneath his breath. "You've woken him! Arthur, come out of there," it was phrased as a command, and Arthur had never been one to follow those.

"Merlin," just saying it was like taking a breath of fresh air. The load on his heart lightened. Merlin's eyes swiveled to look at him again, and the skeleton cocked his head curiously, as if he could vaguely make out a sound in the distance, but had little clue where it came from. "Merlin. It's me. Arthur," no response, not even a flicker of recognition in the pale blue eyes.

"My king, come! I've given you a second. Now…"

"Merlin. You have to remember!"

"He doesn't," Geoffrey sighed, still not moving from the doorway. "His mind… It isn't the same, my king. Please sire, come out now. Let him rest. Can't you see how unhealthy he is?" Arthur's eyes burned. Unhealthy did not begin to describe how he knew Merlin felt. He took a shaking step forward, slowly as to not startle Merlin.

The warlock didn't move, nor take his eyes off him. Arthur tried again. "Come on, you laisy daisy!" He implored, struggling to keep his voice under control. He kept creeping forward, slowly. "Time to get up. The sun will be shining soon, Merlin. You do remember, don't you? How you used to wake me up every day?"

"Arthur Pendragon…" Geoffrey took a step inside, his face having gone red with annoyance. Arthur held up a hand. Geoffrey ignored it, continuing forward. "Come out of here. He's gone, Arthur, don't you see? His mind is gone. _Merlin is gone_," the anger was tinged with anguish. Arthur sidestepped the hand Geoffrey offered to lead him out with, his eyes locked on Merlin's. He couldn't accept that. He couldn't. His heart quickened in desperation. He held his hands out, supplicating.

"Every day for nearly six years, Merlin! Come on, you stubborn, disrespectful dollopheaded prat! You have to remember! Your druid name is Emrys!" He ducked beneath Geoffrey's hand, and grabbed Merlin by the shoulders. "Your mother's name is Hunith! Your father's name was Balinor," The bones beneath his hands were frail and delicate. Arthur handled them as if they were the limbs of his child.

"Your mentor is Gaius! You were born in Ealdor, you were born with magic, Merlin! You_ are_ magic!" Merlin's eyes burrowed into his own, disturbingly empty of recognition or even emotion. Arthur sobbed again. Tears itched beneath his chin and dripped down his face,

"Merlin!" he shouted, giving the emaciated body a small shake.

_"__Arthur!"_ Geoffrey's hand was on his shoulder, tugging him away with no little strength. Arthur waved him away.

"Merlin, come _on_! I know you're in there," Arthur frantically put a hand to the back of Merlin's head, stroked his wild hair, cradled his cheeks and kissed his forehead as if touch could revive the bond they had once intimately shared. His anxiety fueled him. "It's me Arthur, remember? You must remember me, Merlin. The dragon-Kilgarrah-he spoke of me," Geoffrey grabbed his wrist and tried to yank him away. Arthur gripped Merlin's hand as if it were a lifeline, never taking his eyes away. If only he could see something in those empty eyes, _anything…_

"Stop!" He pushed Geoffrey away violently. "The first night you arrived in Camelot, remember Merlin? He told you about your destiny that night, told you you were meant to be my protector! You saved me that day, Merlin, you… Geoffrey!" The bookkeeper had somehow managed to get his arms hooked beneath Arthur's elbows behind his back, immobilizing him as he forcibly dragged him away.

"Let me go! I am the _King,_ let me go!" He shouted, furious.

"Not tonight, sire!" Geoffrey hissed into his ear, just as furious. He was dragging Arthur backwards towards the door, away from Merlin. The King struggled, desperate to get back to his brother. The warlock watched him being dragged away emotionlessly.

Arthur shook his head, heart hammering. He struggled futilely, kicking and squirming. _If only I had Excalibur._ Arthur cried out in ire. "No, let me go! I will have you _hung _for this!" he roared.

Geoffrey was unimpressed. "Fine! But you'll not carry on with this fool's crusade! Merlin is gone! His soul is _dead_!" Arthur felt as if those words were arrows puncturing his heart. He sobbed anew.

"No," he wept. "No, it isn't true!" he looked back at Merlin, watching the proceedings calmly. "Merlin, Merlin please! I know you're in there! Answer me please!" He screamed.

"Arthur, he's gone!"

"Merlin, I'm sorry I didn't find you in time!" The emotions and feelings Arthur had secretly harbored poured from him like rain being dumped from a heavy sky, sharp and cold and agonized. "I'm sorry I didn't legalize magic earlier! I'm sorry for Freya and Will and Balinor and Daegal and…I'm so _sorry._ Merlin…Please don't leave me alone again," they were almost to the door now.

"M-Merlin, you have to remember. We're two parts of the same coin, you're my brother, we're supposed to rule Camelot together! I can't do this without you. I can't bear to be alone again," Arthur suddenly almost went limp in Geoffrey's arms, the force of his sobbing draining his strength. Geoffrey grunted as Arthur sagged to the ground, taking the elder with him. Doubt and grief started to seep into Arthur's heart.

_His soul is dead. He doesn't remember me. _

"No," Arthur wept. "No, no! Merlin!" waves of aching pain enveloped his heart in a shroud of angst. Remorse followed close behind, guilt and anger taking their rightful place at the heads of the line. Geoffrey huffed impatiently, but still gently laid a hand on Arthur's shoulder as the king sobbed.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have let you in here," he apologized gently.

"How?" Arthur whispered, heartbroken. "How could he not remember me?"

Geoffrey sighed, and opened his mouth to reply when a soft, nearly indistinguishable voice peeped: "Arthur?"

At once, both men scrambled to their feet. In time, they saw Merlin sitting up painfully, his entire frame trembling with exertion as the world's most powerful warlock struggled. He looked up, and Arthur saw hints of gold swirling in the blue eyes… Gold hinted eyes also swimming with fat tears of disbelief and awful_, searing_ hope. The expression in them broke Arthur's heart. He took a step forward, almost daring to desire … "Merlin?"

The skeleton blinked several times, and reached a trembling hand towards him imploringly. "A-Arthur. I-is it truly…? _Arthur_?" he gasped.

Geoffrey gripped Arthur by the shoulder, holding him in place before he could step forward. Arthur needed help standing anyway. Had Geoffrey not been there, he would have collapsed a third time from sheer relief. There was emotion in Merlin's eyes now. Emotion that was excruciating to see, but at least it was something.

"It is me," Arthur whispered back, willing his soul to scream it where his voice could not. "It's me, Merlin. I'm here."

The bearded lips of his friend trembled. His eyes flicked from Arthur to Geoffrey, then around the room, taking in every detail and minor object until his eyes had had their fill and until his mind made the connection. When it did, the gold speckling in his eyes glinted as they grew, taking up most of his skinny face. A large tear dropped from the corner of his right eye. He gasped. Finally, Merlin looked at them and there was realization in his eyes, and perhaps even sweeter, recognition.

"Arthur," it was like a prayer. Merlin collapsed against the pillows with a sound of shock and distress, his body exhausted. But his hand was still reaching for Arthur, desperately. "Arthur, oh Arthur! Let him go, Geoffrey, please… My king, _Arthur_…" the aforementioned man ripped himself from Geoffrey's grip and dove forward with a strangled sound of relief.

The two men collided in a frantic grip of reunion, hearts and souls melding as the strands of brotherhood between them sang. Arthur cradled Merlin's limp and bony body in his arms. Merlin gripped the back of his shirt with all the strength he could muster, softly crying into Arthur's shoulder. Both were shuddering beneath the waves of emotion that threatened to drown them.

"Arthur… Sweet Avalon, A-Arthur, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Merlin gasped into Arthur's shirt, his spindly fingers and shaking arms roaming over Arthur's chest, his face, tangling in his clothes as if Arthur had been the one mercilessly tortured, and he were checking for injuries. The king nearly laughed aloud. After five years, Merlin was still an over-protective _idiot._ "I thought you were a dream, that this was all just a beautiful dream but… You're real, aren't you Arthur? You're truly here?" He gasped. Arthur nodded against the top of Merlin's head.

"Yes, you idiot," he agreed, partly laughing. "That's what I've been trying to tell you," he told him. Merlin shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm so sorry, I just… _Five years,_ Arthur! Oh magic, it's been five years!" He cried. _Far too long, my friend._

Arthur nodded and pulled away to cradle Merlin's face in his hands. Tears were running down both of their cheeks. Merlin swiped one of his away, eyes searching Arthur's face as if to commit it to memory, as if he half expected to wake at any second. "I searched for you," Arthur choked.

"I never stopped searching Merlin. I never stopped believing you were alive, that you'd return…" he swiped a tear away with his thumb. "But I never imagined… Oh, Merlin, forgive me. Forgive me please, I was too late. Some monster got a hold of you, didn't he? Someone did these horrible things to you? Kept you from coming home?" Merlin only nodded mutely, head turned away in shame.

"A-Arthur… There's nothing to forgive. It was my fault. I was so naïve, and so stupid! I thought… But I was so stupid!" Arthur squashed him in his arms again.

"Shut up, idiot," he chuckled softly. "It doesn't matter, and it wasn't your fault. You're home now, you're safe and no one will ever hurt you again, do you understand? I'll die before someone takes you away again."


	8. Chapter 8

_He had tried to escape. With Arthur's name on his tongue and longing burning his blood, he had tried with all his might to escape. He had had to prepare for months, carefully latching unto any particle of his magic and storing it deep inside of himself, where even the collar would not be able to detect it. He had labored not to let any of it out during his torture, and labored more to keep it alive and ready during the same. _

_It had not been easy, but it had been worth it. _

_Meanwhile something had changed inside of him, a part of Merlin had warped until it was something else, something much darker, and much, much more dangerous. That part of him had allowed him, after months of careful planning and storing, to snap his chains. The way? _

_He had envisioned that the chains were the bones in Maurus's neck, and the surge of pleasure he had gotten from the thought of snapping them went ignored as Merlin tumbled to the ground with a gasp of pain. His magic flooded towards him like an old friend, cradling him in warmth, light… And something else. Something else that as soon as it touched him, it changed. His magic changed. His muscles were on fire with the sudden change. He had been hanging from that wall for so long now… Could he even walk? _

_For Arthur, he could. To go home, at last, he could do anything. Filling his mind with the sound of the voices of his loved, ones, Merlin managed to stumble to his feet, using the wall as a brace. He had to hurry. Soon, Maurus would be there, and Merlin dared not contemplate how irate the psycho would be when he realized that the warlock had escaped his bonds. _

_"__Ugh," he tried to take a shaky step forward. His teeth were clenched hard enough to crack as pain ricocheted around his body as if it could not find a suitable place to settle. _Come on Merlin, you've felt pain, you know pain_! He had practically lived in pain since his arrival in Camelot, and especially during his captivity. It had become an intimate friend, following his whereabouts, clouding his mind, whispering in his ear during the long, lonely nights… _

_Oh, yes, Merlin Emrys knew pain like few other men could ever imagine. _

_As such, he knew how to deal with it. Merlin inhaled a few deep breaths, taking it in through his nose and letting them out through his mouth, slowly, one shuddering inch at a time. The breathing did wonders. The sharp pain dulled into a throbbing ache, but at least now it was bearable. He stood completely, and as the ache was numbed by the constant buzz of it in his body, he moved forward. _

_Unbeknownst to even him, he had been honing his skills as he had been packing his magic into himself like blocks. Without words, feeling fire burn inside of him as if it had been slowly building, he leveled the door to crumbled bits, watching the stone evaporate before him. Merlin did not have time to marvel at his new ingenuity and power. He had only ever used magic for self-defense or protection in swift, usually unplanned battles. _

_His leg stiffened and tingles at the sudden usage of them. Merlin ignored the pain, leaning heavily on the wall. _Almost there,_ he told himself repeatedly. In truth, he had no clue whether he was almost there or not, but it hardly mattered. He was closer to freedom than he had been for the past three years. Tears ran uninhibited down his face as he stumbled into the dank hallway which was outside of his cell. His eyes flashed. _

Up the stairs_, Merlin lifted his head to see at the end of the hall were stairs. _

_He remembered being shoved down them three years earlier when this nightmare had begun. He stumbled that way, still leaning on the wall for strength. Spittle dripped down his chin. He ignored it in his haste to get up the stairs, to go up and into the house, then out to the village. Hopefully, if no one would give him help directly he could make it far enough into the forest to a Druid camp. _

_It has been three years. What if they are no longer loyal to Emrys? He shoved that betraying question aside in his mind and turned to his more immediate problem. The stairs. How was he supposed to get up there with his legs shaking and himself exhausted from destroying his chains? _

_As if by asking he had accelerated time, he was at the foot of the steps. Up the_ _stairs was the door that would lead him out. Determination surged through him like a rising storm. The taste of freedom made his eyes sting with relief._

_His legs surged on, faster, his heart raced in his chest, trying to out-run his feverish limbs. His hands were numb, quieted with the realization of escape. Confidence that had fled him these past few years suddenly came rushing back at a renewed force. He could do this; he was Emrys. He had bested hundreds of sorcerers before, and he was doing it again. There was no reason to be afraid. Without conscious thought, Merlin stumbled up the stone stairs. There were only five of them. _

_They felt like a mountain. His legs trembled as he staggered upwards one agonizing inch at a time. He landed at the top of the flight gasping for breath, entire body shaking. He was exhausted, but he could smell fresh air for the first time in years. He inhaled deeply, relishing the sweet coolness of it in his lungs. Freedom! It sang in his bones, raced through his skin, made his bruised and bloody lips smile with relief. He was not running from torture, nor was he running from Maurus. _

_He was running from doubt. From the tiny voice at the back of his head that_

_had whispered that he would never escape, never see the faces of his family again, never feel the soft leather of his magic books in his hands, never see the sparkle of affection in Arthur's eyes._

_He was running from the voice that whispered that he would die, and leave so much undone and leave Albion at its weakest time. That would be the ultimate betrayal, inevitable, perhaps, but if Merlin was going to die, then by all the magic in the world, he would die knowing that his family was going to be okay. That the nation he had helped build would live on for a thousand more generations after him. _

_He was not sure of that right now. And he refused, absolutely refused__**,**__ to leave them not knowing if they would be alright or not. Without realizing it, Emrys had stood to his feet and staggered across the room, overturning tables and chairs as he burst into the open, bathed by the shadows of fading sun._

_The sun dipped in the sky, leaving the day and replacing it with night in a lovely array or orange, purple and pink. The stars were already coming out, twinkling above as if they were winking at him. _

_The moon was dimly sighted but still there, a comforting spectacle of peace and dreams. No matter what world he had been on in whatever time, he had always been able to see the moon, the stars, and the sun._

_And a thousand times he had taken comfort in the fact, that, even if he left nothing but more war and pain for the next generation, he could leave them the same beautiful suns, stars and moons. A sight worthy of welcome and hope. Merlin allowed a crazed cackle of glee as he ran towards the fading light and away from the prison. _

_He did not stop or slow, though his adrenaline was running out. _

_He gritted his teeth, determined to make it as far away as humanly possible. He spread out his senses in case any animals lurked in the grasses. Predators came out at night. _

_He turned a corner of the house into the town square, nearly cackling. There would be people here. Not monsters or psycho but people, and he was ready to see them. He did not allow the idea that they might not help him into his head. He could not afford the pain of it. _

_The pain of what he saw next vastly outweighed anything he could have imagined. Merlin came to a screeching halt that jarred every bone in his body. He didn't notice, so intent was he on the sight before him. _

_They were dead. All of them. Every single person in town. _

_Their bodies were laid on top of one another, tangled, in bloody heaps as if animals had already torn into the flesh. Merlin felt vomit come, and he got rid of the last vestiges of his nutrients right before his knees hit the hard earth. _

_All of these people, tears ran uninhibited down his face. He had seen death in the form of battle. He had taken life, but not like this. Never like this. This wasn't murder, it was massacre, and the dark magic that still hung in the air choked him. He sobbed aloud. _

_ "__Do you like my handiwork?"_

_Merlin did not physically__** feel**__ the arrow tear through his left shoulder. It was more of a mental pang that something was suddenly wrong. And the slightly painful feel of blood spurting from his shoulder. _

_He didn't fight, only sagged forward until his chin touched the ground. What had this madman done? Why would he do this? Why would anyone do a thing like this? _

_"__They were innocent people," he whispered through bleeding lips. All thought of escape fled his mind._

_A man-shaped shadow crossed his line of sight. "They would have helped you," Maurus answered just as softly. He sounded pleased. 'And I couldn't have that, now could I?" He asked. So they were killed because of me. Merlin's sobs turned into guttural wails of grief. _

_For me. _

_He stayed down, looking at the sky. The sun was still setting, slowly creeping away. Obi-wan could almost feel his past exhilaration start to drain, following the sun like an obedient dog and leaving him emotionally empty and in the dark. The dark which slithered into his soul and claimed it as its own. Merlin did not even lift a finger to stop it. He had no will to fight anymore. _

_Merlin Emrys was broken, and beyond that, defeated. _

_Now all that was left was for him to die. He closed his eyes and steeled himself for the worst. He could feel his entire body buzz with pain. The dust that had gotten into the cuts in his back stung like tiny daggers. He gritted his teeth to stop from crying out. _

_His freedom was gone. _

_Then he felt that same arrow being ripped from his shoulder swiftly Merlin jerked and let out a gruesome scream as the arrow left him as easily as if his flesh was soft butter. His entire body went cold and then hot with pain. _

_He fell back, his eyes open, as he gasped for breath. Maurus stood above him, hands folded delicately behind his back. He watched Merlin curiously. His vision blurred. The fading lights of the sun died down, letting in more light from the moon. Dots swam in front of that light. His heartbeat echoed in his ears with despair. Thump, thump, thump, thump…thump….thump…..thump… "That," Maurus continued, not taking his eyes from him. Merlin's eyesight started to blue at the edges._

_ "__Is the pain I felt when my family went on the pyre, Emrys. Do you understand? Do you understand my pain?"_

_Merlin could only think of one thing. "You monster," he had never truly seen one until now, never known the meaning of the word. _

_He wished he still had that ignorant bliss. Maurus knelt beside him and sighed. "I am only what you made me Emrys," he mumbled. He gently swiped some of Merlin's hair away from his face. "I am only your creation," and then the world disappeared into unconsciousness. _


	9. Chapter 9

_**Four months later**_:

The entire kingdom-Kingdoms- rejoiced in the news that spread like wildfire. The eternal hunt that had kept the King absent from Camelot for a majority of the past five years was over. They had their king back, and alongside it, Emrys had been found and returned to his rightful place. The Magical community was ecstatic. Already, declarations of undying loyalty had been signed by Druid elders and sorcerer societies all over the five kingdoms.

It had only been four months since the warlock's return, and he was still healing. But after many nights where Gaius and Arthur had hovered like hawks over his bedside, the warlock could finally stand and walk. His beard had been trimmed so that it was mere bristles upon his chin and cheeks. His once long hair had been cut. He was clothed in the best that Camelot's wardrobe had to offer.

He was back with his family, Magic was free, and his welcome home ceremony was taking place after five years of dreaming of the moment. Tonight. He was being presented before the Court, as a matter of fact. It had been Arthur's council who had first thought of it. After so long waiting for this moment, Merlin had thought he would be jubilant.

Instead, he was overwhelmed. In truth, he just wanted to get the ceremony over with so he could get into bed and_ sleep_. He had been on his feet all day, supervising the small band of sorcerers who had been promoted to the Round Table, speaking with druids and Peasants. He had been laughing and talking all day, enjoying the sunshine and smiles that he was met with, so different from the night he had been forced to flee Camelot. His heart had sung at seeing friendly faces and hearing his name being cried with relief and joy.

The scars still marring his body had seemed to vanish then, as he faced the people in Arthur's beautiful kingdom. He had also spent enough time with Arthur and Gwen's son to completely fall in love with the boy.

Nevertheless, Merlin still felt the emotional and physical scars which were now permanently ingrained into him. He had thought that if he could finally get home, if he could just be free of Maurus, then everything would be alright. But it wasn't. He was still at war, merely with himself. As he sat in his private room (Gaius had only approved him to leave his chambers a few nights before) trying in vain to get his shirt on, that fact became more apparent.

He had sent the servant away so that he would not have to look at the numerous cuts on Merlin's bare body, the bones that still poked out from thin and pale skin. He had sent him away so that he could not see Merlin's weakness as he struggled to lift his trembling arms up enough to put on his own shirt.

Merlin pretended not to see the dragon sticking out at him, a permanent memento from these past hated years. As if the nightmares weren't enough. Kilgarrah had tried to convince him that they were marks of valor and honor. Merlin had merely choked out a sob against the dragon's scaly skin.

It wasn't what the dragon represented that he was ashamed of, but he was deathly afraid of what it meant about him that he had let it be carved there. Then… What he had done after, to avenge it.

He would be wearing long sleeves for the rest of his life to hide the scarring. Yet, for some reason he still felt as if everyone could see every shameful thing that had been done to him, every secret, every murder, every failure,_ everything._

"Ugh!" He cried in frustration at last, finally allowing his aching arms to drop to his sides. His heart banged against his ribcage. Sweat beaded his brow. Merlin felt tears sting at his eyes as he slowly sunk into the chair behind him. His ceremony was in two hours and he was already exhausted from failing _to put a shirt on_. How was he ever going to get through the night?

_I have too. For Arthur, _ that excuse didn't work here though. Once, in Maurus's clutches it might have, but he was home. He was surrounded by people who loved him and admired him. That was the problem. Before he had been imprisoned by hatred. Now he was surrounded by love. Somehow the two felt no different. He still wasn't free.

Merlin exhaled a shuddering breath. "I'm being stupid again," he chided himself to no avail.

"Merlin?" That was Gwaine, knocking softly at his giant mahogany door. The thing probably weighed more than he did. Merlin had been wondering how he was going to get that open too.

The five years that Merlin had been away had given the Knight adequate enough time to become a real… Knight. True, he still went out for drinks every now and again, but the old devilish charm that Gwaine had possessed had dulled into something more mature. The adventures had turned him into experienced, thoughtful charm instead. Despite that, he was not yet mature enough to wait until Merlin answered to come barging in.

Dark chocolate curls covering a pale and handsome face peeked into the room. "Merlin?" Gwaine asked again, as if not to frighten him. Merlin didn't answer. He half hoped Gwaine would go away if he said nothing. The tactic didn't work. One of Arthur's most trusted stepped fully inside, quietly closing the door behind him as he went. His eyes locked unto Merlin almost immediately, shirtless and near tears.

Two seconds later he was at Merlin's side. "Hey, mate," he said, placing a hand on Merlin's shoulder as if he were a child. The bone of Merlin's shoulder fit perfectly into the palm of Gwaine's warm, gloved hand. "What's the matter? Having trouble with the scars?" He asked.

Merlin stashed his pain away behind a mask of smiles. "Yes. I can't get my shirt on without… Well, you know," he gestured down at his entire body, covered with remainders of his torturous five years. It all still hurt sometimes, and most of his friends knew it. Only those with the fable that Emrys was invincible didn't notice. Gwaine frowned.

"Don't do that," he scolded, as he gently took the shirt from Merlin's clenched fists. He unfolded the beautiful purple fabric, light and soft and majestic. Nothing of what Merlin deserved. Merlin watched him miserably, smile still in place.

"Do what?"

Gwaine clucked beneath his breath. "Smile at me as if you're alright. I came looking for you for a reason, Merlin. Its two hours until you're decreed _officially un-dead_ before the entire kingdom. Your dreams are coming true…."

"And I'm happy," Merlin hurried to assure him. "Truly, Gwaine. I've never been happier. This is more than I could have ever hoped for," he promised sincerely. Gwaine nodded, gently taking Merlin's arm and raising it himself. He placed it into one sleeve, eyes trained on Merlin's face. The warlock tried not to show how much being dressed was embarrassing him.

"I know you are, Merlin," Gwaine shushed him, mildly enough. "I'm happy for you too, but mate, with all you've been through these past five years," Gwaine's eyes quickly passed over the dragons stitched into his skin. Merlin cringed. "You can't just come back and be_ okay_. No one can," Merlin once might have been upset by this doubt. Now he only shrugged listlessly.

"I'll never be okay again, I think," he told Gwaine frankly. Life was too short and too unpredictable to mince words. Gwaine pulled his other arm through. Merlin hissed as the fabric caught on stitches in his back. Gwaine quickly plucked the strands of fabric away, tsking apologetically. "No, no, it is alright," Merlin told him though his back burned.

"No, it's not Merlin," Gwaine gave the bottom of the shirt a final yank to settle it into place before looking back at Merlin. His sapphire eyes were concerned. "Listen: Maybe you should ask Arthur to postpone this…."

Merlin's heart skipped a beat. He grabbed Gwaine's arm with all the strength he could muster. "No!" he cried hoarsely. Gwaine blinked, taken aback by the desperation in his voice. "No, Arthur mustn't know that… That this is happening. He must think I'm alright. Say nothing about this, Gwaine, please," he pleaded. What exactly Gwaine would be saying was beyond him. But saying nothing sufficed too. That sufficed quite nicely in his opinion.

"Why?" Gwaine demanded.

Merlin shook his head sadly. "He's spent so much time looking for me already, Gwaine. I've heard the stories. Years he's spent looking for me. The times you all journeyed across mountains and over frozen lakes infested with predators to find me. Time he could have been with his son. Times Gwen slept alone. All of this suffering-" a lump stuck in his throat. "Was for me, Gwaine. I couldn't bear anymore on my account, especially from Arthur. I couldn't bear to disappoint him when he's worked so hard," Merlin told him.

Gwaine stared at him for a long second. Merlin tried another trick. He grinned, truly this time. "I promise, Gwaine. I'll be fine," he swore. Gwaine's eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Merlin with all the keenness that the knight could muster. "I promise," he repeated.

"Let it go, Gwaine," both men jumped when they heard the voice suddenly behind them. Merlin cried out, startled. Gwaine stood immediately, sword drawn and placed himself protectively between Merlin and the intruder. Said intruder smiled sadly. Arthur Pendragon was leaning against the doorframe to Merlin's room, a tiny, sad smile on his face. "Merlin always keeps his promises," though there was no sarcasm in his voice, Merlin cringed.

"I didn't keep my promise to protect you," he whispered, loud enough for the two men to hear. Gwaine stiffened. Arthur inhaled a sharp breath. The room fell into silence for a long span of time in which Merlin's entire face bleached red with embarrassment then white with defeat.

"Gwaine," Arthur said. "Would you leave us alone for a moment please?" They shared a subtle nod. Gwaine nodded, looking as if he was unhappy at the order but he stood. With a pat on Merlin's shoulder that the warlock assumed was supposed to be comforting, he walked past Arthur out of the room. The door creaked shut behind him, and into place with a loud thump. Arthur sighed, and his gaze wracked Merlin up and down.

He was all ready for the ceremony. Indeed, he was resplendent in full King regalia. Merlin performed his own inspection, feeling slightly like the servant again. It eased his nerves. His eyes swept from the neatly combed golden/blond locks hat held the full crown of Camelot, to the strong neck and broad shoulders that had borne the weight of responsibility his whole life, and never once slouched.

To the golden buckle of Pendragon's crest that held his blood red cloak to him. The thin cotton shirt beneath a warrior's chainmail and the gloves of a master swordsman on his hands, holding his gauntlets in place and finally Excalibur, resting patiently on the hip of his King. Merlin wondered who had helped him get dressed. _Does it matter?_ He then thought. _It wasn't me._

At last, Arthur moved around so that he was standing behind Merlin. From a secluded place on his person, he produced a small hairbrush, and without word began brushing Merlin's hair back, straightening the unruly curls with the skilled hands of a father. That was something that had changed about the once prideful Arthur Pendragon. With time, he had been given humility and grace.

Merlin let some of his tense muscles relax. For a long time, the two remained in companionable silence, letting the room's bright reds and oranges soothe their frazzled nerves. These past four months had been just as hard on Arthur as Merlin. The King had hardly let the warlock out of his sights, and at every yawn or stumble Arthur had been there ready to order him back into bed for rest. Sometimes, Merlin had needed it. Other times, he had resented being treated as an invalid when it was he that had watched over Arthur for all those years.

_But he's all grown up. He doesn't need me anymore,_ Merlin thought as tears pricked his eyes. "Merlin," Arthur's voice was soft, plaintive. "Show me some magic," his son had sounded almost the exact same as he asked (or rather commanded) the same thing and Merlin had to smile remembering the grin that had lit the young boy's face. This, at least, was something he could do.

He held out a hand and called his magic. It answered immediately, curling through his bones like warm tea and spreading out of his fingers. He balanced the ball of light in the palm of his hand like it was a baby chick. On his scalp, Arthur's hands stopped moving. Merlin could feel his King's delighted wonder.

"I remember that," he whispered. Merlin nodded. Arthur had seen it two times. Once, in the cave when they had first met and Arthur had tried to save Merlin's life. Then a second time when Arthur had found out about his magic.

Merlin had done small tricks for him in the beginning, eager to illustrate what he could do, and Arthur ready to learn. Over time, the ball had begun to symbolize their friendship. "I've waited five years to see it again," Emrys felt his heart constrict. A lump formed in his throat. A gauntleted hand reached slowly over his head towards the light, as if drawn on an invisible line. "C-" Arthur gulped. "Can I touch it?" he asked. Merlin blinked, taken aback.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think anyone has ever tried before," and that was incentive enough for Arthur to try. The King ripped off one of his gloves, exposing his bare hand.

"I hope it doesn't blow me up," he muttered. Merlin frowned, curious. _Would _it blow them up?

There was little time to wonder because at that moment Arthur plunged forward, throwing caution to the wind as he had always done. His hand went through the ball of light as easily as if it had been air up to the wrist. Merlin gasped as a ticklish shiver went up his spine and his concentration faltered. The ball died.

Arthur's hand remained motionless where it had been. "What's wrong?" A strong hand gripped his shoulder. "Did I hurt you?" Arthur asked worriedly. Merlin shook his head.

"No," he assured Arthur. "It actually kind of tickled. It surprised me, is all," he turned halfway in his seat to look into Arthur's face. It was expressionless, far-away, blank. "How did it feel?" he asked in genuine curiosity. At first, it seemed as if Arthur had not heard the question. He wasn't even looking at Merlin. He was staring vacantly into the space above Merlin's head at the door, as if all his memories and treasures were there in the wood. Merlin waved a hand in front of his face. "Arthur?" He asked as concern started to come.

At his name, Arthur blinked out of the spell. "Hmm?" He asked dreamily.

"I asked how it felt," Merlin repeated, wondering if he had inadvertently charmed Arthur without his own knowing. The King gazed at him, smiling.

"It felt…" The King suddenly broke out in a brilliant grin and his eyes danced in a way Merlin had never seen before. "It felt like waking up. Waking up from a long, horrible dream," _well, I wasn't expecting that. _He had not been expecting it, but he understood it.

Merlin nodded and smiled back, hesitantly. "Rise and shine, sire," he replied jokingly. Arthur chuckled and squeezed his shoulder.

"Shine indeed, old friend. Shine indeed. After all, you're home," at this Arthur returned to combing through Merlin's thick and tangled knots of hair a small contented smile on his face. "You're home, and about to be welcomed back at Court tonight. In two hours, as a matter of fact."

Merlin resisted the urge to groan, not wanting Arthur's content smile to fade. He would do anything to ensure that it stayed there. "I know," he sighed instead.

"And two hours is time enough for me to talk to you," Arthur's lighthearted tone suddenly dropped into one of seriousness. Merlin couldn't see Arthur, but he could feel his body stiffen and his heart speed up. Merlin felt a shiver go down his spine. "Do you know what's happened here the past five years, Merlin?" Arthur asked softly. Merlin inhaled a deep breath.

"I've heard the stories," he answered.

He knew that Arthur smiled bitterly. "Ah yes, the minstrel's tales. And those of the Knights, too, I assume?" Merlin nodded, a bit sheepish that Arthur knew where he got his information from so easily.

"I thought as much. I'll tell you the real story, then," Arthur decided.

Merlin squirmed, suddenly afraid. He couldn't bear to know what hardships Arthur had went through without him. It would be like a lance through the gut. "Arthur," he said softly, wondering if he were being punished for being away for so long. "You don't have to…"

There was no censure in the way Arthur shushed him, however. "I do have too, Merlin. We both need it," a sigh. "We both need it to be over," Merlin didn't know what that meant, but he had the feeling that this would be one of the rare times when Arthur displayed more wisdom than he. He nodded, listening.

"The night you left, the people stormed The Citadel," Arthur began softly. "They broke in, and if there were ever a time I was afraid, it was then. I thought they might even hurt me or Gwen to get to you, but after finding you weren't there, they subsided. Things returned to normal for awhile, like you said," Merlin nodded. Though it saddened him to think that he had been the reason for fear, he also knew that fear was irrational and had a long memory.

Uther had made people afraid for so long that it had turned instinctive and sharp, like molded cheese. "Gradually, I started to introduce magic again. I invited Druids into the city for commerce. The children flocked to them first. Their magic tricks became such big hits that I'd have magic users in Court for entertainment. Then I held festivals and jousts with Druids and sorcerers. They came from every part of the Five Kingdoms, and with them they carried books, and spells and creatures. Things I had never seen from a completely different world I never knew. It was…_Magical._ Amazing. You would have loved it Merlin!" The lump in his throat returned. He blinked rapidly.

"I know I would have," he whispered, as longing cried out in his soul. If only he had been there.

"It only took a few months for the magic-users to integrate themselves. Soon, families started moving into the city. It was rough for them at first, but as more came, the people accepted it better than I could have dreamed. Suddenly, I wake up one day and there are Minstrels singing and Druids dancing in the streets together! There were goblins in my horse stalls, fairies helping bake in the kitchen, sorcerers training my Knights in magic self-defense. Not even I could have anticipated such a reaction. It was glorious, and it was then that I decided it was time for you to come home," he said. Merlin nodded, remembering.

"I heard," he whispered. "I heard about it all Arthur. Within the first year, almost every magic-user was talking about what you'd done. I was _so proud _of you," but then he had stopped at that village. He had been foolish. He had missed everything. Arthur gulped, as if he could sense Merlin's distress.

"I sent a messenger to Ealdor. I thought you would have taken refuge there. But the messenger returned with Hunith who told me she hadn't seen you in months. I wasn't too worried. It was foolish of me to think you'd be in Ealdor. Almost everyone in Camelot knew that was where you were born. Why would you go where so many could have easily followed? So I sent messengers to the Druids, thinking you would be with them. Nothing," the word resounded in Merlin's mind. _Nothing._ Arthur had needed him and he had been able to do _nothing._

"So perhaps you were in a different kingdom?" Arthur continued, oblivious to Merlin's pain, his voice matter of fact and stripped of emotion. "I sent messengers to every King and Queen in the five realms. Nothing. I can't count how many messengers I sent. To every province and town and farm I sent messengers, but nothing. That was when I began to worry. That happened barely a year and half after you'd gone."

Merlin closed his eyes. He had been so close. "Arthur," his voice wavered. "I'm so sorry."

Arthur did not reply, only continued brushing through Merlin's hair. "I started going out after that. I didn't want the Druids to panic, so I kept it secret. I only took Gwaine and Leon; we went on elongated 'hunting trips,' every few weeks. We scoured the forests of Camelot that way, secretly heading out and returning empty handed. It was…" Arthur's hands stilled, and he exhaled slowly.

"It was dispiriting, to say the least. We all believed you to be alive, but where were you? That was when I_ knew_ something wasn't right. I made my trips official. Gwen was sovereign in my absence, I took most of the Round Table and we headed out. We were away for a week, and found no trace of you. I _knew_ something was wrong, I was determined to find you so I pushed my Knights day and night, following the slightest whisper or rumor, asking every passerby, considering every option, covering hundreds of miles," Arthur snorted without humor.

"I pushed so hard that I wouldn't be surprised if I killed two dozen horses just in those first two years. It was horrible. Whereas before I would be gone for only a few days at a time, now it was for weeks, months… Along the way I fought bounty hunters, slavers and smugglers. We came across a Druid camp one day. Your old friend Iseldir was there. I begged him to use magic to look for you. The entire clan-every man, woman and child- contributed to the search. It lasted an entire night, but by dawn Iseldir…. He told me they couldn't find you. Not only that, they couldn't even _feel _you," Merlin nodded. He had been in Maurus's clutches by then, cut off from his magic by the binding cuffs around his wrists. Iseldir and the others would not have been able to feel him through magic.

"It terrified me, honestly," Arthur's voice cracked, the first bit of emotion leaking into his voice. "Gaius had told me you didn't just have magic, you_ were_ magic, so if they couldn't find you using the very thing… I was frantic. I returned to Camelot long enough to drop off the wounded and eat before I was out again, this time with sorcerers," Merlin scowled.

He knew how much of a sacrifice that had to have been for Arthur. Despite the reformed kingdom he had created, Arthur was not a naturally trusting person by nature. Beyond that, he was also exceedingly proud. Only out of desperation would he have asked for help from sorcerers he barely knew.

"They led me through magical forests and consecrated ground. I was looking for anything that might help me, but everywhere we went was the same. No one could feel you. No one had seen you. It was as if you ceased to exist. This search continued longer than I can say. Eventually, the numbers of people willing to go dwindled down to me, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan and Leon. I was away for so long that Camelot became a foreign world to me. My wife seemed like a stranger. My people greeted me like a pariah, but I didn't care. I would do anything to find you, even trespass into the Screaming Shadows during the dead of winter," Merlin's entire body went cold.

He swiveled in his seat. "You _what_?" He hissed. Arthur stood there, his eyes shadowed by surreal horrors and magical secrets Merlin didn't want to try and describe. "Were you_ crazy_?" He demanded, furious that Arthur would take such risks, heartbroken to know it was for him. He never would have wanted that.

"Yes," Arthur quipped with a superficial half-smile.

"Arthur… _No one_ goes into the Screaming Shadows and comes out sane. The mightiest sorcerers have fallen to it. It twists you into… Into something else, something different. And during the dead of winter? Do you realize you could have frozen your lungs out by merely breathing in that treacherous air? Whatever possessed you to think _I_ was there?" he demanded.

Arthur shrugged indifferently, neither offended by his fury not baited by his sorrow. "I was out of options," he replied sadly. "It had almost been three years Merlin. In my soul, I knew you were in pain, that you needed me. Kilgarrah told us…"

"_He_ put you up to that? When I get my hands on him…!"

"It was the only way, Merlin, don't you see? Kilgarrah told us about a woman who lived in that pot of devils. She could see into the fabrics of time, he said. Past, present and future. She would surely know where to find you. I had to try."

"You could have been killed! Or worse. Your mind could have been permanently damaged," _like your father_ hung in the air, an unpleasant memory between them. Merlin harrumphed loudly, still quite irritated by the fact that Arthur had taken such a risk to himself for the sake of one man. What would have happened to the kingdom if he had died? What would have happened to Gwen? The Knights? Arthur's _dreams_?

Arthur shook his head. "Which is why I went alone," he agreed. Merlin nearly smacked his forehead.

"Oh, Arthur," he groaned.

"If it is any consolation, I'm not dead or insane," Arthur offered.

"That's because you were already so insane that nothing more could be done to you," Merlin grumbled. In return, Arthur barked a short laugh of genuine pleasure. It had been a long time since Merlin had mocked him. It prompted a grin out of Merlin as well.

He sighed. _I can't change it now._ He would give anything to change it, anything to take the pain and horror that he could see in Arthur's eyes away but he couldn't. There seemed to be a lot of things he couldn't do nowadays. Perhaps Maurus had been right. Perhaps Merlin really was useless. He let out a huff of worry and turned in his chair, unable to look Arthur in the eyes for fear he might see blame there. Arthur continued combing, almost absentmindedly. "How are you alive?"

"She never wanted to kill me," Arthur replied factually. "And that place is designed to make you go mad, I've been told. It isn't designed for death of the body but the mind and soul. That's what she did. I journeyed into that fog and met her. I can't tell you what she looked like without retching," Merlin could imagine.

"I asked her where you were, if you were still alive. I offered her anything her heart desired but she did not want anything I could offer," he let out a breath of satiric laughter.

"She didn't want to be _offered _anything. She _took._ And Merlin, I have fought many, many battles. So many that I have lost count. I have seen and killed hundreds of horrible people. She wasn't a person. She was a monster," Arthur shivered and stopped combing Merlin's hair to grip his shoulder in a trembling fist. Merlin's heart skipped a beat.

"Oh My king," he would tear her limb from limb. "What did she do to you?" He asked.

"S-she told me you were dead," Arthur replied shakily. Merlin was surprised. He had been expecting something a bit more… Evil. Arthur continued tightly though his wide eyes staring at the wall as if he had seen a ghost there.

"Not only that, she _showed _me. She conjured up an image in air, and it was you. You were tied to a stake in a town where they all hated you. You tried reasoning with them, but… They didn't care. They stoned you, and beat you and I watched it," Arthur's grip tightened until Merlin was sure he would leave bruises. "I watched them torture and then murder you," He gripped Arthur's wrist in his own hands, trying to massage the hand into relaxing.

"Arthur," he called softly, desperate to reassure Arthur. "It's alright. It was just a projection spell. She lied to you, Arthur. I'm alive," he wished he could say that no one had hurt him, but they both knew it would have been a lie. Arthur let out a shuddering breath and nodded. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he couldn't stand to see anyone or anything just then.

"Yes," he whispered at last, opening his eyes which swam with tears. Merlin wanted to pull him into a tight hug. "Yes, you are here. You are here, but Merlin… For that time, I thought you were dead. That _witch_," he sneered it with hatred.

"Conjured a broken and bleeding body so much like yours that I _knew_ it had to be you. I held it in my arms, and wept over you. I wept myself unconscious, and when I woke up she was gone. I couldn't-" Arthur's voice wavered, then broke in a high pitched choke. Merlin's heart shook in his ribcage.

Through the years that they had known one another, Merlin had never seen such emotion or vulnerability from Arthur. True, he had seen more of the King's heart than most other people could possibly imagine, but he had still never seen this. He had never even considered this. In some ways Arthur was supposed to be invincible, untouchable, the warrior King that Merlin had always seen him as. It terrified him to know that some of that invincibility had been stripped, which then meant Arthur's heart was in more danger than ever. And it was all his fault.

"Even bury your body because she had taken it. That should have been my first sign, but my mind was foggy with despair. When I returned to Camelot, I went through the hardest few months of my life. It was so short a time, but… It felt like an eternity. I'm told I fell deathly ill from the cold, at the cusp of death," now it was Merlin's time to inhale a shuddering breath. The very thought of Arthur dying filled him with a bone-deep dread.

"I don't remember much of it. All I remember are the few times I would wake, and just lie in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about how I'd failed you. I decided I was a bane on everyone who cared about me. My mother died bringing me into the world, Morgana died because of my prejudice, my father was killed protecting me, my uncle betrayed me, Lancelot gave his life for a kingdom I should have protected and now you? It was more than I could bear," Merlin shook his head, horrified that Arthur should even think his existence was anything but a gift.

"You can't believe that, Arthur," he gasped. "You've never failed _anyone,_ ever," Arthur didn't comment.

"When I was well enough to function again, it didn't matter. I was sick at heart. I felt as if my soul was lost and I was just wandering. I stopped sleeping, eating, training, anything. I knew my advisors talked about me behind my back and my people were losing faith in me but I didn't care. I was… I was so alone, Merlin. I felt as alone as you did during the years you had to hide who you were, surrounded by people who didn't understand and sorrow I couldn't explain," the warlock squeezed his hand.

"But you got through it," he reminded him. Arthur squeezed back. A single tear dropped from his right eye.

"No," he shook his head. "I didn't. It had been four years by then. Gaius had been giving me herbs to lend me energy. Everyone thought I was just weak from sickness still. One night-it was the night of your birthday- I stowed away to the lower town and took too much. The herbs raised my spirits, made me forget about my emptiness and pain, made me forget about everything but a single purpose, which was to build Avalon," Merlin couldn't hold back a sob.

He knew where this was going, what herbs Arthur was talking about. Those herbs weren't good to take for long periods of time. They were deadly if taken too long. _No. No, not Arthur. Not for me. _

"So I began on that. I started signing treaties and building bridges, roads, homes. I became a king again and for a time everything seemed alright. Until I ran out of herbs. Gaius wouldn't give me more, so I grabbed a drink. Or a dozen. I don't remember. Really," Arthur had to stop and regain control of his trembling voice. The King leaned forward as if he were in physical pain, teeth clenched, muscles trembling. Merlin turned and grabbed his forearms. He pressed their foreheads together, his own heart throbbing with pain for his brother.

Arthur gripped his bicep too and opened his eyes. "I don't remember anything from that night. One minute I was drinking a beer in the lower town, the next I woke up in an alley with… With my sword out and…. There was blood, Merlin. Blood on the blade and spattered all over me. It wasn't mine," Merlin shook his head, disbelieving.

"You would never hurt anyone," he whispered desperately.

"Not sober," Arthur scoffed. "But… I don't know. Gwaine found me there and brought me back. I don't know who the Knights bribed but… No one ever found out that it had been me in the tavern that night. To this day, they won't tell me who I hurt. They insist that he-or she-is alive, but that's all. I-I don't know what I did Merlin," Arthur shook his head violently as if to ward off the memories. He quickly changed the subject.

"Goodness, did the Knights berate me for it and Gaius! You've never seen Gaius _truly_ angry my friend. Not like I saw him. It was soon after that when Guinevere told me that she was pregnant. For my child, I stopped taking the herbs and drinking. I also slowed my searches for you," Arthur glanced at him hesitantly, as if wondering whether Merlin would be angry. The warlock gave him a wan smile of approval.

"Finally, you do something right in this story," he said. Arthur did not smile.

"It tore out my heart, Merlin," he told him seriously. "Especially when I told Gwen and Gaius what the witch had showed me. They told me not to believe what I had seen but what I felt. 'Listen to your heart. It knows more about Merlin than anyone else does,' Gaius told me. I listened, and I knew you were alive, and needed me. I could have cried for joy and in relief, but with that knowledge that you were alive, came the loneliness and desperation to get to you again. It was torture to suppress it long enough for the baby to come. When he was born, I was torn between wanting to stay and wanting to find you," Arthur finished Merlin's hair with a final flourish of the comb through a last curl, and then set it down on the bed next to them. Merlin heard rustling as Arthur went to the wardrobe and picked out a deep blue cloak.

"A year passed. The council had just forbidden me from going on anymore searches when Gwaine found you in the forest," a warm and heavy weight settled on Merlin's shoulders. The fabric smelt like lilacs and smoked venison. Merlin felt safe and secure wrapped in the cloak of the Court Sorcerer.

He pulled it around himself securely. "Arthur," he said softly, heart near to bursting. "Why are you telling me all of this?" He asked.

"Because, Merlin," Arthur grabbed his hands and gently hauled him to his feet. The King fastened the cloak around his shoulders, eyes cast downwards. "I want you to know that while you were the one physically tortured these past five years, I was in agony too. I have done things I am ashamed of, things I wish I could re-do and scars I wish I had never gotten. I thought… I thought that when I found you things would be different. Life would go back to being how it was before, but… It isn't, is it?" Merlin shook his head.

"You don't need me anymore," he lamented softly.

Arthur's eyes snapped to lock unto his. "Now_ you're_ crazy," he scolded lightly. "Because if I've learned anything these past five years, it is that I need you more than you'll ever need me. You can stand alone, it's the only reason you survived here for so long. But me?" Arthur shrugged.

"I need people around me to help hold me up. I need pillars, and you're my major pillar. When I thought you were dead," Arthur's voice cracked. "My soul withered. It was as if the sun would never again rise. Then we found you," Arthur smiled. "And the sun came again. Now I suppose I just have to readjust myself to the brightness. I've become so used to darkness and despair that I don't quite know how to let go of it all," Merlin tried to smile and failed.

He tried even harder to believe what Arthur had said about him, that he in any way resembled the sun and light, but he couldn't. He couldn't believe himself worthy of such goodness anymore. Once, he would have, but not anymore.

Arthur didn't know what he had done.

But could he perhaps _understand_?

"Merlin," Arthur's voice was gentle, encouraging. "You're thinking again. I can see it in your face," he stated with utmost certainty. Merlin had to smile, even if it was half-hearted.

"Have you gotten to know me so well, My King?" he asked. Now it was Arthur's turn to sit, this time upon Merlin's giant bed. He crossed one leg over the other, waiting with expectant, compassionate eyes. It was the same look he gave to his citizens when they brought their complaints-and at times, sins- before the King.

"I didn't have to_ get_ to know you, Emrys," Arthur informed him factually. "I'm born of magic remember? You are my very blood," and it was that proclamation, spoken so plainly and without regret, that tore past the wall Merlin had erected around himself. He sighed, and sat at Arthur's side.

"You won't like it," he warned emotionlessly. Arthur said nothing, merely glued his eyes to Merlin's face as if the secrets of the world laid hidden there, just waiting to be revealed to him.

And so Merlin began.

He began his own heart wrenching story to the King, starting when he had found a small group of sorcerers to practice his healing arts with, and then continued to the day he had been tricked into imprisonment by a small boy trying to save his mother. He told Arthur of the torture he had endured –speaking in a tight, detached voice as if he were describing the tale of some distant stranger. He saw Arthur gulp and pale more than once, his fists clenched and a fire of rage burned in his eyes several times, but never fears. He was not afraid.

Merlin explained his failed escape attempt, and what he had seen after. His heart had broken at the memory, but he had continued, until Arthur finally asked in the silence "How did you escape?" Merlin snorted.

"I didn't," he shuddered. "My soul is still there, trapped, screaming, tortured. My body got out, and that was done by cheating," Arthur scowled.

"What do you mean, _cheating_?" He asked.

Merlin gulped, sudden fear overwhelming him. "You'll be ashamed of me," he whispered. "You'll fear me, Arthur. I…I can't…" He hung his head, biting his bottom lip as if the words were trying to batter their way through to the outside, where they could more effectively ruin his life.

"Merlin?" he turned away, eyes stinging. _He'll fear me_; and that was not something that he could handle. He was already useless. Arthur didn't need him, but if he…if he stared at him with the crazed look of a scared animal, trapped and conflicted, Merlin would break completely.

Strong fingers gripped his chin, and forced him to look up. Arthur's compassionate eyes burrowed into his own. Merlin felt a tear streak down his face. Arthur showed him compassion now, but that was just because he didn't yet know what Merlin had done, who he was. Once he knew, he would leave him. Everyone would leave him. A sob escaped.

"I can't lose you," he whimpered. He pulled away. He would say nothing. "I just _cannot,"_ he said, turning away. He heard Arthur sigh behind him.

"Yes you can," his King breathed. "I'm flattered that you think you can't, but you would be stronger than I was. You would bear my loss Merlin, and remain just as kind and strong as the day we met. It's who you are," he said. Merlin wanted to pull out his hair. He hated how strong Arthur made him sound, how sure he was about his innate goodness. A goodness that had never been there.

"I'm not the man you think I am, Arthur. I am a lie," he gasped.

Arthur nodded, very seriously. "You aren't the man I thought," he agreed willingly. "I used to think you were just my best friend, my brother. Now I know. Now I know you are my protector, my advisor, and my other half. Beyond that though Merlin, I know that you are one of the strongest men that I have ever met," he grinned. "Nothing you can say or do would ever change that," he whispered. Merlin stared at him, partly infuriated by the surety in Arthur's eyes. A surety he wished that he still had. He had possessed it once, but now it was gone.

His anger made his eyes flash golden. Merlin quickly sucked back the surge of magic that went through him, sparking at his fingertips like hot embers. What was he doing? This was Arthur!

The King noticed his face pale. He frowned. "Merlin?" Said warlock closed his eyes as tears started to flow from them. He might as well tell Arthur now, prove to him that Merlin did not deserve the kindness in his eyes. He did not deserve the sureness that his king possessed so easily.

If Arthur was going to hate him, Merlin would rather have it done with now.

His voice trembled. "Do you remember when I told you I was Emrys, the things I said I could do?"

Arthur perked up, watching him worriedly. "Yes, of course. You can topple kingdoms, lift oceans, shape skies and command the stars above if you wanted too," he repeated, with some awe and admiration in his voice. Merlin nodded.

"Yes. I've never found the power to be able to do these things, but that is how my power is written. Unstoppable, invincible," his eyes gleamed a sad gold color. "Immortal," he whispered. Doomed to live alone forever.

"You still look lonely when you say that," Arthur informed him softly, studying Merlin's downcast face intently. Merlin nodded. Power was always lonely, and everyone had their own burdens to carry. Arthur's was duty. Merlin's was loneliness.

Arthur said nothing more after that. Merlin went on. "It wasn't even more than a few months ago now. Maurus… He kept me in a small stone cell. I… I was broken Arthur. After seeing all those people, I was in too much pain to care about anything anymore. So I hung there limp, and let him do as he wished to me," Merlin shivered, remembering some of those things.

"Then, one day, it was… It was just like any other. I don't know what caused it exactly," he frowned. "Or, I do know. He showed me you, Arthur. You And Gwen were on the battlements with the Knights, looking over the kingdom. I remember being so proud then," he smiled encouragingly at his king.

"_So proud_ of all that you had done. I haven't been afraid to die for a long time Arthur, but at that moment, I knew that if I did die there, it was alright. I had lived a good life. I had helped create a great kingdom and guided a great king," he shook his head, awestruck by the man who stood before him.

"I am fulfilled so long as you live," then, he darkened as deranged laughter rung through the still air between them. The memory made him shiver. "I made the mistake of telling Maurus that. I told him I did not care to die so long as you lived. So he threatened you," Merlin turned away so that he would not have to see Arthur's face, his entire body taut with the held-in rage and grief he carried like a second cloak over his shoulders and in his soul.

"He had done it before, of course," Merlin steamed. "But I had always ignored him, secure in the knowledge that you had the Knights…But your son, Arthur. It would only take a quick spell to kill him," Arthur blanched such a pale color he matched Merlin's freshly cleaned sheets.

"He… he tried to make me choose. Between your son and you," Arthur surged to his feet so quickly that Merlin jumped. Arthur's sapphire eyes blazed, startled so much by the gall that his hand went to the sword at his hip. Merlin flinched at the intensity in Arthur's eyes, and also the defensive maneuver. Did he really not trust Merlin so much?

Upon noticing Merlin's uneasiness Arthur's hand dropped. The King glanced at the door, as if he wanted to go see his child, but refrained, instead forcing himself to stay for Merlin's sake. The warlock could have wept with gratitude and the love he had in his heart for this man. The friend he was about to lose forever.

"He would take your life or his, and Arthur… I just couldn't. I couldn't choose and I was so angry and so afraid he'd kill you both and just so_ tired_… Oh, Arthur," Merlin felt his knees buckle, and before he knew it, he was falling to the ground. His eyes were trained on whatever was ahead as the scene flashed again before his eyes. Shivers of agony wracked through him, starting at his heart and spreading to the very tips of his toes. Merlin bit his bottom lip, swallowing convulsively. Arthur had fallen to one knee beside him. He put a hand on Merlin's shoulder.

"Merlin?"

"My magic," Merlin whispered. "My emotions are linked to my magic. I had not been able to access it in so long because of the chains, but… I don't know, Arthur. I don't know how I did it. I just remember screaming," he marveled, as his mind spun through those few seconds before the explosion had knocked him out in a blinding flash of white light.

"Did what, Merlin?" He could tell that he was making Arthur anxious.

"I blew it up," Merlin finally spat, and the words took the breath out of him. Arthur's face collapsed into confusion.

"You_ blew_ it up?" he asked, skeptically. "Merlin, I don't understand. Why are you…?"

"There is a crater in the ground, Arthur. I_ shook_ the ground so much it opened up and fairly swallowed everything up. Trees, houses…Villages…" Now he understood. Merlin heard Arthur's sharp intake of breath and his heart nearly skipped a beat. He closed his eye and turned away in shame. Tears stung at his closed eyelids.

"Merlin," Arthur said, slowly. His voice cracked. "Villages?" Merlin nodded. He could not stop the sudden flood of tears that came then, attacking him with a viciousness that tore Merlin's heart to shreds. He sobbed, his shoulders shaking as he sat on his knees, trembling from exhaustion and grief alike.

"E-Everything for a f-five mile radius…. Everything is rubble, Arthur. Oh dear spirits… All those houses and people… Oh Arthur," his sobbing overcame him and Merlin suddenly pitched forward, his body too weak to hold him up anymore. Arthur's hand darted out to catch him, but not fast enough. Merlin landed hard enough to jostle his still healing ribs. He lay there, face hidden in his arms as he sobbed.

"Oh Merlin," Arthur's voice cracked.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin wept, not looking up. He knew Arthur would hate him. He knew it. His heart sent wave after wave of pain into his chest.

"But Gwaine found you in the forest," Arthur stuttered. "He said it looked as if you were running from something…" He trailed off, disbelieving. Merlin shook his head, face still hidden.

"I just ran," he gasped. "When I realized… I ran, Arthur. I ran and never looked back until I was close to Camelot. I didn't even mean to come here but I just… I ran. Like a coward," he curled slightly.

He lay there for an indeterminable number of minutes, sobbing his heart out, alone and afraid and so very, very cold. Arthur did not attempt to comfort him, or even touch him. He just sat there next to Merlin, silent. After a long span of time in which Merlin choked his sobs back to whimpers and then into sniffles, Arthur finally spoke. His voice was hoarse.

"How many people?" Merlin cringed at the coldness in his voice. He raised his head, keeping his eyes downcast. _Coward,_ he screamed at himself. _Selfish, monstrous coward! _

"I-I don't know," he stammered apologetically. "I couldn't… I didn't…" He had not stayed long enough to count the bodies buried by earth and rubble, by his magical outburst. "In the hundreds," the estimation caused another sob to rip itself free.

"Hundreds," Arthur repeated in a whisper. "Hundreds of innocent people. Unburied," Merlin's heart panged. He looked away. He wished Arthur would just kill him. He knew he should not have told him. _But then I would have been living a lie, _he reminded himself._ Like before. Always lying, always hiding what I had done. It wouldn't have been right. The fact that I hid it this long… What have I become?_ Whatever he had become, he hated it. He hated it with all his being.

"A-Arthur," he managed to grind out. "I understand if you hate me. If you want me gone, just please… Please…" he was not sure what he was begging for. Assurance, brotherhood, understanding? A reason to live? He did not know anymore, he knew nothing expect for that he did not deserve any of those things. He deserved to die.

Merlin's eyes went to the sword at Arthur's hip. The King still did not look at him. His voice was listless as he asked: "What?"

"Kill me," now Arthur's neck snapped around to look at him so fast Merlin heard the crack of neck bones. Arthur stared at him, shocked. Merlin reached out and placed his hand on the hilt of Excalibur, meaning to pull it free and do it himself, but Arthur had anticipated the move. His own hand snapped down and landed on Excalibur at the same time as Merlin's did.

"Please," Merlin begged again, as tears raced down his face. "I'd rather it be from you, or I'll do it. I don't care. I just want it to be done. Fast… Please, Arthur. I deserve this. Please let me die," he pleaded, finally allowing his eyes to wader up the body of the man who he had sworn his magic too. When his eyes landed on Arthur's face, he saw only shock and horror there. It made his grip on the sword tighten.

Arthur's grip on him tightened more. "Merlin…"

"Please…"

"No Merlin, listen…"

He couldn't. Said warlock shook his head. "I know you must be disgusted by me," he gulped. "I'm disgusted by_ myself_, Arthur. I know I deserve to suffer for my crimes, but … Anymore suffering would just kill me anyway. Please, grant me this one mercy. Let it be fast," Arthur's eyes were bright with tears of anger. Merlin flinched, considering that he had no right to ask anyone favors. _I don't deserve a fast death, and he knows that. It would not be justice,_ so placing his life in the hands of his King, Merlin gave up. He released his hold on Arthur's sword hilt and bowed his head, waiting for punishment by his King.

It came with surprising swiftness. "You idiot," was the tight response before Merlin felt himself yanked brutally back to his knees. He cried out, ducking away from the slap he was sure to come, but instead he felt strong arms wrap around his neck and gentle fingers card through his moist locks.

At first Merlin thought Arthur was trying to strangle him, but when there was no uncomfortable pressure on his windpipe, he realized that he was being hugged.

Arthur was _hugging_ him.

"W-what?" Merlin squawked, confusedly.

"Don't ever ask me to do that again, Merlin Emrys," Arthur choked into Merlin's neck where he had fairly stuffed his face. "I will never hurt you," Merlin blinked, wondering if he had just heard correctly.

"A-Arthur?" he croaked, thinking that this was just another dream.

"You are not to blame yourself, do you hear me?" Arthur released his hold on him momentarily. Merlin gasped as Arthur then grabbed him by both sides of the face, thumbs stroking his tear-stained cheeks as Arthur stared into his eyes. There were tears running down Arthur's face as well, but his eyes…they were not filled with hatred, anger, fear or shame. It was… They were filled with love.

Merlin could hardly believe it. "What happened was… tragic. Terrible. But it was not your fault and I'd rather put my sword through my own heart than see it in yours for a crime that was never your choice to commit," Arthur told him sincerely. He gently rested his forehead on Merlin's, still stroking his cheek.

"I lost you once, Merlin," he whispered, voice breaking. "I'll not lose you again."

"What…?" Merlin breathed. "What are you talking about? Don't you hate me? I murdered innocent people!"

Arthur shook his head vehemently. "You were defending yourself!" he cried. "And more than that, you were defending me and my son. What you did was an action born out of a selfless and brave heart, not a murderous one," Arthur let out a long and exhausted sigh that seemed to reverberate in Merlin's tormented soul. "Thank you for my life, Merlin, and that of my son's," he whispered against Merlin's ear, his breath tickling his neck.

Merlin stared into Arthur's eyes for a long time, a thousand thoughts going through his head. Why was Arthur doing this? Did he pity Merlin, think he owed him something? Was this another noble display to make Merlin admire him more? It was none of those things. Arthur's eyes spoke the truth plain as day and the only thing to be found in those was affection. Brotherly affection and love that made Merlin's heart glow.

"You…" He had to make sure though. "You don't hate me? You aren't ashamed of me? You're sure you don't…?" His hand crept to the sword again, hesitantly. When Arthur saw, a tear dribbled down his face. Gently, he took Merlin's hand into his own and squeezed.

"Never," he swore.

"Arthur," Merlin's eyes filled with tears he couldn't contain. "I-I don't deserve this… I deserve your abhorrence, your hate… I deserve to be punished," Arthur cringed as if what Merlin said caused him physical pain.

"Don't say that, my friend," Arthur begged him, his grip tightening on Merlin's face. "Please don't," a sob ripped itself from Merlin's already sore and abused throat.

"But it's true!" he protested. "I've done so many horrible things, Arthur. You don't understand. Everyone I care about d-dies because o-o-of me and I've caused so much suffering, s-so much death and I…" the words spilled from him in shuddering, ragged sobs mangled by harsh panting for breath.

"I failed you and the p-prophecy because I was so s-s-stupid and naïve. I'm clumsy and c-cowardly and dim-witted and oh, Arthur, I just don't deserve to be at your side and i-if I can't be at your side then… Please, Arthur. P-please," and then he could say no more. He collapsed weeping with relief when Arthur only hugged him tightly in his strong arms, Merlin's back pressed against his chest while both arms strung around Merlin's shoulders and upper torso.

"Don't you dare say such horrible things," Arthur whispered harshly in his ear, rocking Merlin like a child in a protective grip. "You, who are my friend and my brother. Don't you dare, Merlin," Arthur sighed, and Merlin could hear his heart hammering. Suddenly, Arthur snatched at the sword around his hip-the one Merlin had begged he kill him with-and flung it across the room. It skittered into a corner with a loud clang, useless. He was defenseless before a sorcerer who had killed hundreds. Merlin moaned.

Arthur then wrapped Merlin in his arms, and kissed his forehead. "You are the most compassionate and selfless soul in this world, Merlin," Arthur whispered, choked by his own tears. "Don't ever say differently to me because I won't hear it, understand? I'll not hear a word against yourself. I forbid it," and he repeated this over and over in Merlin's ear, each time more sincerely than the last, while Merlin wept with relief in his arms.

He repeated it until Merlin finally stopped weeping and Arthur was hoarse from whispering the same message, still clinging to Merlin tightly. He stroked Merlin's hair away from his forehead, fingers gentle and comforting. Merlin closed his eyes, reveling in the kind touch which he had been starved of for five years.

He felt… Lighter. As if a thousand pounds had just been lifted from his shoulders and the cloud hanging above his heart had vanished, revealing a sky cloudless and never-ending above. A sky Merlin had forgotten about.

His heart still ached with the guilt of what he had done, but it was tempered by the unconceivable love he felt coming in waves from Arthur's side of his soul. Those waves were putting him back together, gluing shattered piece to shattered piece. Merlin clung to the arm stretched across his chest and sighed. For the first time in so very long, he was content. He was at peace.

He felt as if he had just woken from a very terrible nightmare…Into bliss. They stayed there in companionable silence, just enjoying the company of the man next to him when Arthur broke the silence.

"Are you alright, then?" He asked worriedly. Merlin beamed at him.

"Never better," he chirped. Arthur smiled.

"Rise and shine, brother," Merlin couldn't help but snicker at the pun.

He turned on his back in Arthur's lap, not at all uncomfortable, and grinned at his very best friend. "Arthur?" He asked. The King cocked an eyebrow. "Thank you," tears welled again, but this time they were tears of joy. "Thank you for everything," Arthur squeezed his hand.

"No matter what obstacles befall us, Merlin or where our paths may differ," he said softly, with an unexpected wisdom. "We will always be connected, and I will never hate you," Merlin squeezed back.

"And I will always protect you," he swore in return, unnecessarily. Arthur seemed pleased by the vow anyway. He beamed, and poked Merlin in the chest.

"I'll hold you to that. Now get up. You're going to make me late for my brother's coming-home ceremony," Merlin giggled like a boy.

"Sounds like fun," he observed.

"It will be. I brought in dancers. Now get up so we can go, and for heaven's sake, look at how badly you've mussed your hair! I just got done with it, _Mer_lin!"

"You probably didn't do it right, and stop mother henning me!"

"I know very well how to brush hair correctly. Do you suppose I'm a complete idiot?"

"Well…"

"And I am not a chicken!"

"But you are a mother chicken, yes?"

"MERLIN!"

And suffice it to say, neither Arthur nor Merlin were ever alright again. They were better.

They were brothers.

THE END


End file.
